


Twelfth Night Destiel

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12th Night/Supernatural AU, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Castiel/Viola/Sebastian, Chef Castiel, Cowboy Dean, Cowboy Sam, Dean/Orsino, M/M, Shakespeare/Supernatural, Supernatural/Ranch life AU, bad boy Jimmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 31,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel despairs of his brother Jimmy. Once again, assuming he is in trouble, Castiel heads to Montana to bail his twin out of jail. But a case of mistaken identity has a comedy of errors taking place. A gifted chef, Castiel ends up cooking for a ranch full of cowboys and Dean Winchester, the owner of Circle W, throws his emotions and hormones for a loop, distracting him from his life in New York.</p><p>A take on Shakespeare's 12th Night. I hope I do it justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neoboha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neoboha/gifts), [whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/gifts).



> I'm terrible at titles. I'm sorry!

“Chef?”

Castiel barely glanced up from where he was prepping a plate. Succulent pork, perfect crackling, crushed vegetables and a tart champagne jus he drizzled in a spiral over the feast. He cleaned up the edge with a white cloth and handed it over to the waitress. He wiped his hands.

“What?” He asked the kitchen hand testily, annoyance colouring his tone.

“Phone call, Chef.”

“Little busy right now.” Castiel was sorting through the orders on his station.

“Someone with a cornfed accent, saying it’s about someone called Jimmy.”

“Shit.” Castiel slapped the cloth down on the table. “Joshua?” He called to his sous chef. “Take over here. I need five.”

Castiel slammed the door of his office. If Jimmy was in jail again, Castiel wouldn’t damn well bail the guy out. Jimmy might be his brother, but he was driving Castiel insane. He picked up the phone.

“Hello. This is Castiel.”

 _“Casti...what? How’n hell did your brother end up with such a normal name an’ you get Casti-elle.”_ The drawl was friendly enough, echoing of wide open spaces, cowboy boots and horses.

“Luck,” Castiel said drily. “I’m in a hurry. What is this regarding?”

_“Well now, see, the thing is, your brother has gone missin’. Didn’t tell anyone he was headin’ off anywhere, but I gotta bad feelin’ you know?”_

“Who is this?” Castiel frowned at the phone and the display that was an area code he didn’t recognise.

_“I’m Garth Fitzgerald. I got your brother this here job cooking for the ranch, but he went out last night and ain’t come home.”_

“He’s probably in jail. Have you checked there?”

_“Sure did, buddy. He ain’t there neither. Just up an’ disappeared.”_

"How did you get my number?"

_"From Jimmy's file in the boss's office."_

Castiel pressed his fingers to his forehead. “What do you want me to do from New York?”

_“New York? Well, hell, that’s quite a distance. Look, man. It’s probably nothin’, sure. But bein’ honest I gotta say, he’s rubbed a couple folks the wrong way.”_

“Yes. Well. He does have that habit. Look, Mister Fitzgerald, I work long damn hours here, I can’t just take off.”

_“Well, sure, buddy. I understand that. But just in case ya change your mind, we are out here in big sky country.”_

“Texas?”

_“Montana, hoss. Paradise Valley, Montana. Just down the road some from Bozeman,” Garth hooted with laughter. “Texas is a swear word ‘round these here parts. Just ask for the Circle W.”_

“I don’t…” Castiel was talking to dead air. He growled and slammed the receiver down. “I’m not going.”

 

The rest of the shift flew, with the dinner rush slowing around ten thirty. Castiel got the chance to finally think properly as he tidied his station. He leaned his palms on the pristine stainless steel.

Jimmy. His pain in the arse twin brother who had never been able to stay out of trouble from the day he hit sixteen and left home. Had been in jail more often than he cared to count. Some day, he had to stop protecting his brother. Had to stop bailing him out.

“Castiel Novak, a fantastic night, as always.” The owner of the restaurant breached Castiel’s realm with the rapid click of high heels. His staff paused in their cleaning and stood hesitantly, watching for his reaction.

“Good evening, Naomi.”

“A party of four just came in without a booking.”

“We are closed,” Castiel said flatly, as a low disappointed murmur went through the kitchen crew. He could feel their tiredness. They had two days off coming to them all, and they needed it. With success came Naomi’s decision to extend their opening hours. Castiel checked the clock on the wall. “It is eleven thirty, Naomi.”

“He is a food critic from the Time.”

“They critiqued my food last week. And the week before.”

“And now they want to do tonight.”

“No.” Castiel removed the cap he wore and tucked it into the waistband of his apron. “I have a plane to catch.”

“What?” Naomi blinked as though this insubordination was unbelievable. “But we have a meeting in the morning. We have to go through the menu’s for next week.”

“I submitted my changes two days ago.” Castiel flicked the top button of his chef’s jacket and mentally sighed with relief.

“And I disagree with some of them.”

Castiel lapsed into silence and met Naomi’s gaze steadily. “This staff have worked their asses off for you, and this restaurant. We have agreed to work longer hours as we have gained in popularity. But I will not restart this kitchen. Good night, Naomi. I will see you in three days.”

“Wait, Castiel…” Naomi all but stamped her foot. “Ah. Fine! But this goes down as a warning. Too all of you.”

“Very well. Good night, everyone.” Castiel slipped off his apron and tossed it in the laundry basket.

The crew watched the exchange with open mouths. Glancing at each other uneasily, they collected their gear and followed the man they really worked for.

 

Castiel scrubbed his hand down his face, and fastened his hands back on the wheel of the Lincoln Continental he had been forced to rent when there was nothing else available bar a tiny little electric deal that he didn’t even think he could fold his six foot frame into. He hadn’t slept. He had only barely made the four am flight as it was.

Supposedly Circle W was about an hour from Bozeman on Highway 89. The morning sunlight was brighter here. He supposed it was the lack of buildings to break it up some. Either way, it was bringing his slight headache into full blown head pounding migraine territory. As it turned out, Castiel nearly missed the turnoff, and just caught the sound of the GPS on his phone telling him to turn right. The Continental stuck to the road like glue.

 

The ranch was like nothing he had ever seen. A huge ranch house oversaw the various outbuildings. Stables. Several barns. Greenhouses. Watertanks. He braked out the front of the ranch house and got out.

“Jimmy, hey, where ya been?” A ranch hand waved at him from a distance, calling out.

Used to being mistaken for his sibling, Castiel raised his hand in greeting. He got out his phone and thumbed up Garth Fitzgerald’s number. The phone rang twice on the other end before being picked up.

“Yello.” The drawl was friendly.

“Mister Fitzgerald, it’s Castiel Novak. I’m here.”

_“Just make it Garth, good buddy. Now where are ya?”_

“At the ranch. Out front.”

“ _Oh shoot! You came. Hang on, pal. I’m just out back, gimme a moment._ ” The phone went dead.

“I don’t…” Castiel took a deep breath to chase back his intense annoyance at being hung up on by this...cowboy hick...for the second time.

“Well hey there.” The voice was even more drawling in person.

Castiel turned to observe a gangly, beaming man. A stained stetson pushed back to reveal a thin face that was mostly nose. But he couldn’t help but notice the genuine pleasure in the smile, and the quick intelligence in his bright brown eyes. He stuck out a grotty hand. “Garth Fitzgerald.”

Castiel sensed he was being tested. Fine. He gripped the other man’s hand, and yanked his sunglasses off with the other, meeting Garth’s gaze. “Castiel Novak.”

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven, Castiel. And call me Garth.”

“No word from Jimmy...Garth?” Castiel tested out the name.

“Nope.” The smile disappeared from Garth’s face. He folded his arms across his skinny chest. “Worries me some. He’s a bit flighty, your bro, but he’s got a good heart. I don’t wanna think somethin’ has gone wrong with him.”

“You and me both.” Castiel peered around. “I came out here. Figured if he got himself in trouble, he probably needs help.”

“Sounds like you have done this before.”

“Many times,” Castiel replied flatly.

“Hey, Jimmy.” A new voice entered the mix.

“Oh shoot,” Garth muttered. “It’s the boss.”

Castiel turned and studied the man who stood at the top of the stone stairs down from the ranch house and lost all the saliva in his mouth. Holy crap. He shifted uncomfortably. Short, light brown hair messily tumbled over his brow. A two or three day scruff of beard. Tanned, freckled skin. Pair of hellishly kissable lips. Slight lines around his eyes to give a little indication of his age. And the voice. The drawling accent. A coil of heat started low in his gut.

“Where you been, man?” The arched brows were drawn together in disapproval, as the man headed down the stairs.

Someone have mercy on him, Castiel thought. The man had bow legs. He didn’t even know he had a weakness for bow legs. But according to his dick, and a suddenly overactive imagination, he sure as hell did. Castiel glanced at Garth. The guy was grimacing. He glanced back at the guy who now stood in front of him, studying him with dark moss green eyes that seemed to sear into his soul.

“Sorry. Yeah,” Castiel said hesitantly. “Sorry.” He looked to Garth for help, with a fierce look in his eyes. “I screwed up.”

“Yeah, sorry, Mister D. I forgot to tell you. Idiot that I am. Jimmy here got stuck in Bozeman over night. Chick stole his phone.” Garth beamed, his accent at its broadest.

Castiel was still floundering. What was the guys name? He looked at Garth again, trying to inject some kind of hidden message.

“Anyway, Mister Winchester.” Garth came through and whipped a military smart salute. “Permission to return to shovelling manure?”

“Permission granted.” Said Mister Winchester returned the salute.

Garth strolled off, then behind Winchester’s back, he turned, shrugged and screwed up his face in a grimace of apology. Castiel swallowed.

“Like I said, sorry.” He offered.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Winchester (What was the guy’s first name?) said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Get up to the kitchen. You are behind on lunch prep.”

“You got it. Boss,” Castiel stared after him, then headed up the stairs. What the ever living fuck was he thinking?


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking for a heap of hungry ranchers...

How many people worked on a ranch?

Castiel yanked open drawers, studied the contents of the refrigerator and freezer. The kitchen was actually impressively stocked and equipped. Jimmy had started an apprenticeship in a kitchen, but never finished it. He must have learned something.

Busy ‘cowboys’. ‘Ranch hands’. What were they even called? And what the hell did they eat? Castiel ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up in errant spikes. Fuck it. Who didn’t like lasagne?

He got out the flour and pulled the eggs from the fridge. How else did one make lasagna but with fresh pasta, right?

 

There was a cacophony of sound from the massive meal table outside. Castiel had set out fresh squeezed lemonade made from the lemons in the orchard he had discovered when tossing out a pan of water, and there were sounds of appreciation already for his efforts.

He had warmed up some loaves of bread he had discovered in the freezer, followed by the massive tray of lasagna. There was contemplative silence as he served out the huge slices. A few of the hands even pulled the salad bowls toward themselves.

The silence continued, bar the scrape of silverware on plate. Conversation started low after that, punctuation by: “Holy crap, this is delicious.” Castiel returned to the kitchen and sorely missed his kitchen hands. He hated washing up. But if it got him closer to where Jimmy went, well dishpan his hands and call him Billy. Billy being the kitchen hand they had just hired on to do the dishes at Heaven’s Gate..

“That was pretty damn amazing.” The gruff voice was followed by the scrape of dinnerware.

Castiel turned, his hands encased in green rubber gloves, the blue apron with daisies embroidered on it a perky counterpoint to the ensemble. It was Mister ...whoeverhisnamewas... Winchester. His pretend employer held out the empty plate. Castiel took it.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

“Never seen you cook like that before.”

Shit. Castiel panicked a little. He stared down at the sauce smeared plate. “I got some new recipes from...uhh...my brother.”

“Well send him my thanks.”

Castiel glanced up long enough to see a smile on Winchester’s face, making him just a little weak at the knees. “I will,” he managed, turning toward the sink and dumping the plate into the hot soapy water.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

Castiel glanced behind him. Dean must be the boss’s name. Finally. He filed that, A tall man had entered into the kitchen. His shoulders seemed to block out the light a little.

“Just got word. The truck will be in tomorrow morning.”

“Right. We need to get the mob in from the Dog Leg.”

‘Dog Leg’? Were they even speaking English?

“Seeya later, Jimmy. Can’t wait for dinner,” Dean farewelled him. Castiel raised a rubber glove in acknowledgement.

Dinner?

He clearly hadn’t thought this thing through.

 

After lunch was cleaned up, Castiel took the opportunity to look around the ranch. He sent Garth a message regarding the location of his bunk. He should only need it for one night. He hoped like hell that Jimmy had bothered to change the sheets in the past month.

Garth told him that he got a tiny room to himself in one of the bunkhouses. Keep the cook happy. He made his way there, thinking to look around.

The place was dark and his nose twitched at the smell of ...well...frankly sweaty unwashed socks. He pressed the back of his forefinger under his nose in pure self defence. The door of Jimmy’s room was down the far end and he headed for it.

The bed was unmade with sheets that were diffidently clean. No way was he sleeping on that. A few clothes hung in the wardrobe. An old coat he recognised as his. He sat down on the bed and frowned. Something was tangled in the sheets. He yanked back the covers and something solid hit the ground. Castiel bent and picked it up.

Jimmy went out...without his wallet? He frowned, opening it up. Fourty dollars, his ID, credit cards. He closed it and tapped it against his lower lip. This felt wrong. Really wrong.

 

Garth found him just before dinner was ready to go out. Castiel was spiking vegetables, stirring gravy and shoving plates into the oven for heating.

“Hey there, Cas, how’s it…”

“JImmy,” Castiel said flatly. “Better call me ‘Jimmy’.  

“Right, yeah, Jimmy.” Garth leaned his forearms on the massive table that served as a butchers block and prep table. “You got kinda dropped into it.”

“Put on that glove and take out the roasts.” Castiel pointed toward the oven.

Garth yanked on the flowery gloves and did as told.

With practiced moves, Castiel covered the roasts with aluminium foil.

“Guess you are doin’ fine,” Garth commented, dumping the gloves.

“No, Garth,” Castiel muttered. “I’m not ‘fine’. I have gone a whole day and done nothing but cook for a heap of cowboys that have bottomless pits for stomachs. My brother is nowhere to be found, and I haven’t even had a chance to ask questions, because I’m stuck...here.” He gestured around the kitchen.

“Your choice, brother,” Garth beamed, unfazed by the rant. “You could have told the boss who you were, but you chose to take on your bro’s charmin’ personality. By the way, you need to dial back the quality about eleventy billion percent to level with his. They are gonna know something is wrong.”

“I will not feed anyone a substandard meal,” Castiel said flatly.

“I would hope not.”

Castiel glared at Garth. Dean Winchester’s voice was once again an interruption to their discourse.

“Better go clean up.” Garth scarpered.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the retreating defector.

“What’s for dinner?” Dean was peering under the foil. Castiel reached out with a meat fork and smacked the back of Dean’s hand. Dean snapped his hand back with a hiss.

“Don’t touch,” Castiel snapped. “It has to sit.”

Dean frowned and sucked on his forefinger. “Damn man, you could have broken skin.”

“I didn’t. Suck it up.” Castiel yanked the pot of boiling potatoes from the stove and dumped the waste water through the colander. “Take those trays from the oven.” HIs voice rang with command.

When Castiel turned, Dean had removed the trays of roast vegetables, his hands covered by the flower covered mits. There was a brief gut swooping pause when he considered how he had just spoken to the guy who paid Jimmy’s wages.

“Thanks,” he managed.

Dean’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re welcome.”

Castiel was mashing the pile of potatoes when he glanced up again. Dean was leaning against the butcher’s block, watching him with his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching him with a speculative expression.

“If you are going to stand there, you can make yourself useful.” Castiel pointed at the roasts. “Carve those.”

Dean silently reached over and slid a large carving knife from the block. Castiel wrinkled his nose. Crappy, blunt and expensive. He wished for his own knives, not for the first time. He watched Dean set it aside and roll his clean flannelette shirt up over his forearms. Damn, he had amazing forearms. Castiel swallowed against the sudden dryness of his mouth, and continued mashing.

“This looks good,” Dean observed, slicing efficient slices, thicker than Castiel would have done, but probably suitable for a heap of hungry workers.

Castiel set the lid on the pot of potatoes. He gathered the ingredients for the sauce he planned for the meat, and turned to grab the meat juices from Dean. Dean had piled the meat haphazardly on the tray and was carrying the meat tray to the bin to scrape out.

“Stop, you idiot!” Castiel snapped, and strode toward Dean, grabbing his arm. Dean turned on him, anger darkening his brow. Castiel snatched the tray from Dean.

“Jimmy…” Dean’s voice interrupted his path back to the stovetop. “A word.”

Castiel closed his eyes. Damn it. He was used to working with a well trained crew. Any change to that, made his temper hover a little closer to the surface. The temper he had trained himself to subdue.

“I’m sorry, Mister Winchester. Truly.” Castiel rubbed his forehead. “No excuses. None.”

“Huh?”

Castiel glanced up at the confused query. Dean was frowning at him.

“I was rude. I’m sorry.”

“We just doubled our crew and you are run off your feet.” Dean moved to cover the trays of meat. “I was merely going to comment on the improvement of your cooking skills.”

“New…”

“Recipes. Yeah. So it was mentioned.”

The sound of the ranch hands outside drew their combative stares away from each other.

“I need another few minutes. I made fresh lemonade in the refrigerator, though I suppose most of you prefer beer.” Castiel nodded at scullery, breathing an internal sigh of relief as Dean was distracted.

“I could go a glass.” Dean’s voice echoed in the cool chamber off the kitchen. “Join us tonight, Jimmy.”

Castiel frowned. Dine with the crew? The chef never … but he wasn’t the chef here.

“Jimmy?” Dean paused at the door.

“Yeah. Sure.” Castiel agreed.

  
  


Castiel sat jammed in between Garth and a beefy ranch hand. He toyed with his food, taking a mouthful here and there. He had never enjoyed eating after he had cooked. He mostly enjoyed the wash of conversation. The spring night air was just a little cool, the sweat on his back from the hot kitchen becoming a little icy.

He didn’t understand most of what they discussed: people in town, the coming muster, the poker game where Charlie had cleaned out the guys in bunk house four. Charlie was a vibrant beacon down the other end of the table. Her red hair was yanked into a messy knot and she laughed and smiled with the guys.

Castiel couldn’t help smiling, and covering that with his linked fingers. These people were so different to the people who normally dined at Heaven’s Gate. These men and women wore jeans, workboots and clean workshirts. They smelled of soap and fresh air, not perfume and cologne. It’s not that either was bad - it was just ...different.

He glanced up, his eyes automatically drawn to where Dean Winchester sat. His smile faded when he saw Dean watching him with an enigmatic expression. He quickly looked away, stood up and started collecting empty plates.

“Nice work, Jimmy.” He got a clap on the back, and the others chorused their thanks. It was a little overwhelming. He smiled faintly and with an armload of plates escaped back to the realm he was familiar with.

He set down the plates on the sink and took a calming breath. It was only a matter of time before they realised he wasn’t Jimmy. He had to get into Bozeman as soon as possible and track Jimmy’s footsteps. Naomi was going to fire his ass if he wasn’t home by tomorrow night. His flight was booked for eight. He had to find whatever jail or hospital bed Jimmy was mouldering in by then. 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Jimmy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence toward Cas. Not related to his sexuality.
> 
> Edit- I realised in my original chapter I used Nick instead of Mark at the end. This is because the person I'm putting in for this character is Mark Pellegrino. But I changed my mind to make it Nick halfway through, Lucifers vessel. Changes made, sorry about the confusion.

Breakfast was early on a ranch. Four thirty wakeup call as a large bell rang from the ranch house. He heard the other men rising from the bunkhouse. Four bloody thirty. He hadn’t seen that time of the morning without having worked the full night through.   
He heaved himself upright and scrubbing his eyes, yanked on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He grabbed the jacket Jimmy had pilfered from him and pulled it on. He stuck his socked feet into the pair of boots that were in the bottom of the wardrobe. He shoved his hands into the pockets and frowned. He pulled out his right hand and studied the slip of paper. It had a phone number scribbled on it.  
A bang on his door was loud and Garth’s voice was far too cheerful for that time of the morning.   
“Wakey, wakey, Jimmy. Time to have us some chow.”  
“Coming, coming…” Castiel muttered. Two more meals. He would find Jimmy this morning and he would be gone. He shoved the paper back in his pocket and stepped out into the chilly morning air.

After breakfast, the ranch hands headed off in a variety of vehicles and a handful of horses to start the muster. Dean said, somewhat distractedly, that they should be ready for lunch around one, if things went well. Castiel checked his watch. That gave him four hours to get to Bozeman, find Jimmy, and get back.  
He checked the number in a reverse number lookup. It was for an M. Miner, based in Bozeman. He copied down the address. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He pulled the meat for sandwiches out of the freezer and dumped it in the refrigerator. The supplies of some of the vegetables were low. He would have to replenish.

An hour later, Castiel walked up the broken cement path toward the dilapidated house. Who on earth did Jimmy know here? The door flew open and a woman with lank, curly brown hair launched herself at him. Her slightly sour breath made him flinch as she pressed her lips against his again and again and again.   
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on…” Castiel gripped her wrists and untangled her embrace, stepping back. “Wait a moment.”  
“Jimmy? What’s wrong?” Her wide eyes were confused, her mouth turning down in disapproval. “Why aren’t you…” She narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t Jimmy.”  
“No. I’m his brother, Castiel.” Castiel showed her his ID. She studied it, his face and took another step back.   
“Wow.”   
Castiel rubbed the back of his neck. “Twin brother.”  
“I can see that. I’m Meg.” She fetched a crumpled packet of cigarettes from her pocket and lit one, her fingers trembling slightly.   
“How do you know Jimmy?”   
Meg gave him an arch look.   
“When is the last time you saw Jimmy?” Castiel corrected, his face faintly flushed.  
“Hmm,” Meg frowned. “We were at the Broken Horse a couple nights ago. My uhh, boyfriend, came in and saw us. They got into it. Fought. Jimmy took off with a blood nose. Nick gave me this.”   
A hint of rage coiled in Castiel’s gut when he saw the bruising that she revealed on the base of her throat. “I’m sorry, Meg.”  
Meg shrugged, sucked on her cigarette. “Teach me to take a nice guy for a test run.”   
“Where is Nick now?”   
“He took off. He works out of town. Said he was heading off for a few days leave. His mother wanted him to do some work for her or something.”   
“Do you have his address or phone number?”   
“Phone, yes. Address? He works at a ranch out there somewhere. No idea.” Meg held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”  
He handed it over and she typed in the number. She handed it back.  
“And the Broken Horse? Where is that?”  
“Off Federal. But they won’t be open until midday.”   
“Damn.” Castiel glanced at his watch again, mentally calculating the time he had remaining.   
“Got somewhere to be?” Meg stamped out the cigarette with one high heel.   
“I have a ...job.” Castiel scowled. “Look. If Jimmy gets in contact with you, can you call me?”   
“Sure.”   
Castiel dialled the number from the piece of paper. A jingling sound from her pocket had her reaching for it. She declined the call and saved the number.   
“Again. I’m sorry. If I can do anything…” Castiel gestured.  
Meg shrugged again. “Forget about it. My problem to solve.” She turned and headed back inside.   
Castiel stood in the drive way for a moment and brought up Google Maps on his phone. He looked up the Broken Horse. Maybe he will just call them later, see if they had seen Jimmy.   
For now he had to get back to the ranch.   
Castiel found a log of hickory and split it with the axe propped against the wood shed wall. He had the pile of wood in his arms and headed for the barbeque. It was a huge deal. Massive plates. He had set the briquettes earlier and now layered the hickory wood over stop. The scent immediately filled the area and Castiel sniffed appreciatively. It would make the meat taste good.  
“Don’t the boys usually have sandwiches for lunch?” The silky smooth voice of a woman interrupted his quiet appreciation of the simple act of stirring a fire to life.   
“This is for dinner. Spit roasted beef.” Castiel turned to face the woman. Blonde, delicate featured and soft spoken, Castiel gave her a polite smile wondering if he should know her name.   
“My mouth is watering just thinking of it.” She approached and held out her hand. “Amelia Everett. My father owns the ranch that borders Circle W.”   
“C …” Castiel cleared his throat. “Jimmy Novak.” He shook her hand.   
“Ahh. The new cook.” Amelia leaned against the weatherbeaten outdoor table. “I have heard of you. And your work is going well?”  
Castiel tossed in a few more pieces of wood. “Well enough.” He studied the woman before saying. “Mister Winchester is out with the muster if you are here to see him.”  
“Yes, I saw the mob over in the home paddock and figured they would be back shortly. Mind some company?”   
“That is fine.” Castiel lowered the plates over the flames and wiped his hands on the striped apron he wore.

“So where are you from, Jimmy?”   
“My parents are from Michigan.” Castiel put each of the wrapped sandwiches into a large box.   
“And … what about you?” Amelia leaned forward on the butcher’s block.   
“What about me?”   
Amelia laughed then, a musical sound that was pleasant enough, but while Castiel appreciated the effort, he was no more interested in her now than when she had smiled at him out near the firepit.   
They were interrupted by a phone call. “Hello?” Castiel answered.  
“Hey, good buddy. We got the herd in. Gonna let ‘em settle before we put ‘em through the race.” Garth’s voice was loud in the speaker. Castiel jerked it away from his ear and could still hear it loud and clear, along with a cacophony of sound. Strident mooing, the ‘ha!’ and ‘giddup!’ of the ranch hands, the crack of a stockwhip.   
“I will have lunch down there imminently,” Castiel said solemnly.   
“Seeya!” Garth broke the connection.   
Castiel huffed a soft laugh and shook his head. He glanced up at Amelia who was watching him with a smile and curious expression.   
“What’s so funny?” she asked.  
“Nothing I could explain.” Castiel hefted the box. “Grab those?” He jerked his chin at the smaller boxes that contained large slabs of chocolate cake. With two spare fingers he heaved up two coolers filled with his lemonade.   
“Sure. Why not?” Amelia hefted the boxes. On high heeled boots she tip-tapped across the stone of the kitchen floor after him. Castiel toed his boots back on, balancing on one foot, then the other.   
“Let’s load them into my car. We can drive them down.” Castiel indicated the back of the Continental.   
“Sounds good.” Amelia beamed compliantly at him.

As Castiel braked, he could see several of the hands standing around talking, while others cleaned up. Dust hung thick in the air as the cattle stomped and bellowed their displeasure at being contained from their open life on the range.   
He opened his door and stepped out. Almost immediately, he saw Dean watching him. Well, he was sure Dean was watching. Hard to tell behind the dark wraparound sunglasses and stetson.   
He popped the trunk and headed around to pull out the various boxes.   
Dean approached and Castiel watched him stop before Amelia, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. Amelia wrinkled her nose.   
“You smell like horse,” she complained.  
“Well, that will happen during mustering,” Dean replied with a grin, swiping off his sunglasses.   
“Shoo. Go clean up for lunch.” Amelia touched him lightly with her fingertips and stepped back.   
“I am clean.” Dean held out his hands for inspection, flipped them over. “See?”  
“Well you still smell.” Amelia deftly stepped back and turned to hold out her arms for Castiel to put a box into them.   
Castiel gave her a brief smile.   
Amelia walked easily over the uneven ground to the table that had been set up for their lunches, around the side of the barn, away from the worst of the dust from the yards.   
“How did you manage it, man?” Dean asked, taking the large containers of lemonade from Castiel.   
“Manage what?”  
“Get her to smile at you. I have been trying to get her to smile at me like that for years.” Dean strode off, that loose, cowboy, bow-legged stride making Castiel shut his eyes and thud his brow on the open trunk lid.   
Six hours, Castiel told himself. Six damn hours and he can get away from this place and its smoking hot owner. He would be happy to go back to dating his usual sort. Clean cut. Smelling of good cologne. Knowing good wine. Assuming he tracked down Jimmy in the next few hours. Where the hell had his brother gone?

While the hands were eating, Castiel made the phone call to the Broken Horse, heading away from the barn, using the sound of the cows to cover his voice. They confirmed they had seen Jimmy, and that he had left after a bar fight got him asked to leave by the bouncers. He hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket. This wasn’t helping. Time to check hospitals. He headed back around to pick up the detritus of lunch and saw a man standing in the centre of others. His back was being clapped and they were talking excitedly. Castiel approached cautiously.   
He knew something was very epically, seriously wrong when he saw the deep flash of anger mixed with fear that crossed over the man’s face when he looked at Castiel.   
“You just missed out on lunch, buddy.” Garth drawled, punching the guy on the shoulder. “Jimmy here has been cooking up a storm these last couple of days.”  
“Has he just?” The thinly veiled anger in the man’s voice brought a chill to Castiel’s chest. He eyed him cautiously.   
“C’mon, Nick. You ready to get really, really dirty?” Dean clapped the other man on the back.   
His hard gaze broke from Castiel, though it was no relief. Nick? Could this be the same ‘Nick’ that bruised Meg and got in a fight with Jimmy?   
Castiel eyed the man’s solid muscle and greater height and hoped like hell that the guy was willing to talk. He tapped his phone thoughtfully. He was going to have to delay his departure back to New York. Naomi was going to be pissed.

Castiel stood over the spit roasting meat, turning the spike while he listened to the phone ring on the other end.   
“Heaven’s Gate. This is Naomi. How may I help?” Her voice was smooth and sweet. Castiel knew how viperish she could really be.   
“Naomi, it’s Castiel. My brother has gone missing out here in Montana. I can’t come home yet.”  
There was silence for a while.   
“You are...where?” Naomi finally broke it when Castiel said no more.   
“Pleasant Valley, Montana.”  
“I am expecting you here tomorrow morning, Mister Novak.” Her voice was dangerously quiet.  
“I’m sorry, but that is not going to be possible. My brother has …”  
“I don’t give a damn,” she snapped. “Get back here for nine am or you can forget about coming in at all.”  
“Are you certain you wish to do that?” Castiel tamped down on the flare of temper that had him wanting to snarl.   
“Ball is in your court, Mister Novak.” Naomi severed the connection.  
“Jimmy, I’m going to kill you.” Castiel pressed the edge of his phone against his forehead, trying to resist the urge to throw the phone as far into the garden as he could manage.   
“Hey, Jimmy.”   
Castiel closed his eyes briefly. Someone hated him. A lot. Dean. He turned and studied him. Freshly showered, hair still damp. Long, lean legs in clean jeans and a clean shirt. He was smiling and holding out a beer bottle toward Castiel.   
Castiel took it and smiled back. “Mister Winchester.”  
“Dean. C’mon man, no one calls me Mister Winchester other than my lawyer and my banker. Just call me Dean.”  
“Dean.” He tried out the name aloud.   
“Was a good day.” Dean heaved himself up onto the table and let his legs swing free. He took a long draught from the bottle. “You?”  
“Me?” Castiel shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans.   
“Yes.” Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, a half smile on his lips. “What with Amelia giving you sweet smiles all afternoon. Must have been quite the struggle.”   
“I don’t … uhh. I’m not really interested in Amelia.”   
“What? Really?” Dean’s brows arched in surprise. “But she’s…” Dean indicated vaguely with his beer. “And...uhh…” He cleared his throat. “You have a girlfriend somewhere, don’t you?”   
Castiel shifted uncomfortably. Jimmy had had several girlfriends, some of them at the same time. Castiel was a serial monogamist. And gay. But no way in hell he was telling Dean that. It would blow his cover.   
“Yeah. Uhh. Her name is …” Castiel took a swallow of the beer to lubricate his suddenly dry throat. “Meg.”  
“Don’t suppose you would put a good word in for me with Amelia then?” Dean asked hopefully.   
“Yeah. Sure.” Castiel put down his bottle. “I have to…” He pointed toward the kitchen. “Finish dinner.”  
“Need a hand?” Dean slid off the table. “I’m pretty decent with a peeler. Stocked that kitchen myself.”  
“You did?” Castiel couldn’t keep the surprise from his face.   
“I’m not just a cowpuncher, y’know,” Dean said drily.  
“You punch cows? Why would anyone do that?”   
Dean laughed, wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and dragged him toward the kitchens. “You crack me up, Jimmy.”

Castiel watched Dean deftly peel and slice potatoes for roasting. Without instruction from Castiel, he tossed them in pepper, sea salt and rosemary. Whistling, he dolloped a decent splash of peanut oil over the whole lot. And glanced up to meet Castiel’s eyes.  
“What? I told you could cook,” Dean said defensively, looking, to Castiel’s mind, fucking adorable in the apron with bunnies on it. “I mean, okay, just the basics. But I do them pretty well, damn it.”  
Castiel just huffed a soft laugh and shook his head. “Okay, okay. You can take care of the carrots then.”   
“Damn. Now you really are showing your trust.” Dean flipped the knife expertly in his fingers, maybe showing off a little.   
Castiel couldn’t help but smile at that as he sliced cabbage into thin ribbons.

Castiel tossed the tea towel into the hamper and put both of his fisted hands into the small of his back and stretched. He moved out onto the verandah and toed on his boots. His feet ached. He could hear the sound of laughter from the bunkhouse and his head throbbed at the thought of joining them. He wanted quiet tonight. To consider his next move.   
He headed into the darkness, off the end of the stairs leading down from the ranch house and down to the yards. The cows had settled and lowed occasionally at their companions. It seemed peaceful, and to be honest he had never seen a cow close up.   
He buried his hands in his coat pockets as his mind rapidly sorted through all the evidence so far. He didn’t pay attention.   
He should have.

An arm came around his throat. A big meaty hand shoved him up against the side of the shed.   
“What the fuck are you doing here, Jimmy?  
Castiel scrabbled at the hand that now clutched his throat.   
“I told you to get the fuck away from this place and never come back or I will beat you within an inch of your life.” The hissed voice was full of rage.   
“I’m …. not…” Castiel choked out, and gasped when the hand tightened.   
“You’re a dead man.”   
The fist that came at him was the size of a freight train. The pain that exploded in his skull was excruciating. The fist that buried into his gut drove all the breath from his lungs. His knees gave out and he slid down the wall, his vision blurring around the edges. When the toe of his attacker’s boot buried into his ribs, he felt something break. With that, he passed out.


	4. Four

When he swam around in a semblance of consciousness, every part of him ached. A sudden increase in light washed through his eyelids.   
“Jimmy? Shit. Jimmy!” Someone dropped to their knees beside him. “Geezus. You are beat to hell. Oh man.”   
He felt their hand on his cheek and flinched away.   
“It’s alright, Jimmy. I won’t hurt you.” The voice gentled. “It’s okay. Help is on it’s way.” The sound of running booted feet had him partially opening his already swelling eyes.   
When they started to lift him, he cried out as shards of pain splintered his skull.   
“Careful.” The voice demanded.  
“We got him, boss.” Castiel recognised the second voice. Garth. ‘Boss’. Dean? A hand clasped his. Big. Warm. Comforting. The only part that didn’t hurt.   
He passed out again as they were trying to manoeuvre him up the stairs and the pain exploded in his head, sending him spiralling into unconsciousness.

The sun was bright, almost unbearably so. Castiel raised a hand and shaded his eyes.   
“Good, you are awake.” The stranger’s voice had him turning his head toward the sound.  
He groaned as pain shrieked in his skull.   
“Settle, settle. I’m Doctor Ellen Harvelle.” The doctor was a woman somewhere in her forties. She wore no makeup and her hair was severely pulled back into a ponytail. “You have yourself some pretty bad contusions, cracked ribs. You will have some of the worst aches and pains in the next few days. I’m going to leave behind some pretty good painkillers. Don’t be a jackass and try to bear the pain. It won’t help with the healing process.” She lowered herself onto a seat beside Castiel’s bed. “Any questions?  
“Where...am I?” His throat ached as he spoke, his voice gravelly.  
“Guest room. Dean wouldn’t let them put you in that germ factory of a bunk house.”   
“And I’m really … alright?”  
“Well, aside from the decent blow your attacker got to your face, I don’t think any more damage was done to your skull. You are just real lucky that Dean was doing a final check of the barns and found you.”  
“Dean found me?”  
“You betchya. He was pretty worried too. Called me up last night. I high tailed my way out here. You looked mostly dead until we got the blood off you. Here. Take these.” Ellen held out a small cup with pills and a class of water. “Painkillers.”  
“Thank you. Really.” He took the pills as she helped him hold his head up.  
“You’re welcome.” Ellen stood up. “I’m gonna send in your employer to check on you and go get some grub.”  
“What ..time is it?”  
“One in the afternoon.”  
Castiel groaned again. His job was gone. Fan-fricking-tastic.  
“He alright?” Dean’s voice from the doorway was coloured with concern.   
“He’s going to be a bit sore for a few days. Do try to keep him in bed, won’t you?” Ellen patted Dean on the shoulder before heading down the hallway.   
“Hey.” Dean stood awkwardly just inside the room.   
“You had better come a little closer. Not moving so well,” Castiel rasped.  
“Yeah, sure.” Dean fidgeted with his stetson. “I’m so sorry this happened, Jimmy.”  
“What are you talking about, Dean?” Castiel felt fuzzy, the medications making him a little loopy.  
“Who did it? Who hurt you?”   
“I don’t know.” Castiel was having trouble keeping his eyes open. His words were slurring a little. “They thought I was...someone...else….” His voice felt like it was coming from a mile away as the pills did their work.

Dean Winchester sat beside the guy he thought of as Jimmy Novak. Something felt off. Really off. Something had happened to the guy in Bozeman or wherever he had been. The guy who was more likely to be up every night playing poker with Charlie and the boys drinking beer, now seemed quieter, funny in a different way, more grounded.   
He studied the man’s beaten face. Someone had done this to the guy. Someone on his crew. Dean leaned his chin on his linked hands and took in the lines of Jimmy’s face. The straight line of his nose. The sharp ridge of his cheekbones. The strong line of his jaw. His lips. Swollen and encrusted with scabbed cuts, they were still the sexiest damn lips he had ever seen.   
He leaned back in his chair. Why hadn’t he considered Jimmy sexy before?   
It wasn’t until he had seen Jimmy in the kitchen yesterday, seen his control of the environment, effortlessly putting out the most incredible meal he had ever had. Even his damn home made lemonade had Dean refusing the first beer he usually cracked at the dinner table.   
Sure, okay, watching Amelia flirt hadn’t been a highlight of his day, but after some pretty serious soul searching, Dean realised it was misplaced jelaousy.   
Idiot.  
The guy had a girlfriend.   
Dean scrubbed his hands down his face and rose to his feet. He patted Jimmy on the hand. “Feel better soon, eh?” He headed out. He needed a ride. 

The second time Castiel awoke he became aware of a more urgent need than painkillers. And that sun didn’t shine in the window. He shifted to push himself upright. The pain in his ribs had him gasping and collapsing back with a cry of pain.   
A wraith like figure appeared in his doorway. White t-shirt. Grey tracksuit pants. Bare feet.   
“You alright, Jimmy?”   
It was Dean.   
“I really need to.. uhh…” Castiel waved toward the half open door of the bathroom, and clutched his side. “But I can’t seem to even damn well stand upright.”  
“C’mon, man, I will help.” Dean moved quickly to the side of the bed. “Can you sit up?” He held out his hand.   
Castiel gripped Dean’s forearm, and took a steadying breath. “Let’s find out.”   
Dean’s strength was impressive. Castiel was no lightweight and he pulled him up like he was nothing. Castiel slung his arm over Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s arm went around his back and he steadied Castiel against his side. Castiel glanced down at himself and realised he was only wearing boxers. White boxers that didn’t belong to him.   
Castiel groaned. Not from the pain. Dean smelled so freaking good. His hair was even still damp from the shower he had taken.   
“Sorry, man. Am I gripping to hard?”  
“No,” Castiel muttered. “Just fine.”  
Castiel hobbled to the bathroom with Dean’s help. He gripped hold of the towel rail. “Okay. I got it from here.”  
Dean nodded. “Yep. Sure. I will be right out here. Just shout when you are done.”

Castiel lurched to the sink, and peered at his face in the mirror. He was shocked. What the hell had Nick done to him? He grimaced. He looked like he had done ten rounds in the boxing ring. Fantastic. Hobbling to the doorway, he opened it.   
Dean was seated on the end of the bed, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs. He leapt to his feet when he saw Castiel, and Castiel wasn’t sure, but he thought those green eyes tracked down his body and back up.   
“Help?” Castiel was gripping the door frame.   
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. right.” Dean seemed to shake himself out of his momentary stupor and carefully supported Castiel’s weight. They made their way back to bed. Dean lowered Castiel down, leaning over him. Castiel moved slowly, easing himself back, his eyes closed against the spike of pain. When he opened his eyes, he met Dean’s gaze, his hand still around Dean’s neck, fingers brushing the short hair at the nape. Dean hovered over Castiel, his expression thoughtful.   
Dean’s rough fingers came up and brushed aside Castiel’s fringe.   
“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was a rough whisper. He was glad Dean was looking at his face, because sure as hell the rest of his body was having a reaction to his closeness right now.   
“Jimmy.” There was a flare of heat in Dean’s eyes for a moment.   
But at the sound of his brother’s name, Castiel winced. Dean blinked, his expression cleared.   
“Hell. Jimmy, I’m sorry.” Dean jerked himself upright, face flaming with embarrassment. “I’m gonna...go.”   
“Dean..wait.” Castiel levered himself up on his elbows.  
Dean paused at the door, glancing back. “Yeah?”  
“Thank you. For everything.”   
The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched up. “No problem. Sleep well.”  
Castiel slowly leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a very long time.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summaries are worse than titles, damn it. Just read it!!
> 
> And please send a little bit of love. It warms the <3

Castiel slept the full night through, taking two of the painkillers after Dean left. He woke in the morning and carefully got himself out of bed. His ribs pained him, but they weren’t too bad. The four thirty bell had gone, so he knew he was certain to be alone in the house.   
He went downstairs, uncertain of direction. There were so many more rooms upstairs. He finally found the kitchen and groaned. The place was a mess. He collected up the plates and carefully brought them to the sink. He filled the sink with hot water.   
“What the hell are you doing?” There was anger in Dean’s voice.  
Castiel jumped, then clutched his side, wincing at the pain. “I’m doing the dishes.”  
“You are meant to be resting.”  
“It’s hardly a difficult task, Dean.” Castiel turned back to the sink.  
Dean approached, gripped Castiel’s shoulder and spun him around. His green eyes were brilliant.   
“Hey!” Castiel scowled. “What are you …”  
Dean put his hands on either side of Castiel, leaning both on the sink. He narrowed his eyes. “Two days ago, you got beaten all to hell. You will not come downstairs until I give the all clear.”  
“I think I know a little more than you as to what I’m capable of doing. I got my own ass downstairs, I even managed to piss by myself,” Castiel snapped, his temper flaring.   
“Well maybe the guy did rattle your brain.” Dean let go of the sink, but didn’t back off. “Since it seems to be malfunctioning right now.”  
“At least I have an excuse for being a short tempered jackass right now. What’s your excuse?”   
Dean was breathing hard, his eyes flashing heat. Castiel narrowed his eyes. Suddenly, Dean’s mouth was on his, his body pressing Castiel back against the sink. His hands drove into Castiel’s hair as he slanted his mouth and deepened the kiss.  
Castiel’s arms went automatically around Dean, his palms splayed against his spine. Dazedly, Castiel had the presence of mind to wonder why the hell he was getting kissed, but being honest, he didn’t give a damn. It was incredible. It was making heat explode in his chest. It made him want to .. to… HIs hands clutched at the soft cotton of Dean’s shirt.   
When Castiel made a sound somewhere between a groan and a mumble of ‘more’, Dean stilled. He pulled away, and Castiel suddenly felt bereft. Dean was breathing hard, his eyes closed.   
“Shit. Jimmy. Goddamnit.” He stepped back. Castiel’s arms fell to his sides and he propped himself up against the sink, knees threatening to give way. Dean leaned back against the butcher block across from him, staring down at his feet. “I’m such an asshole.”  
“I admit, I was pretty surprised.” Castiel pressed his fingertips over his heart and rubbed there, as though to ease the ache.   
“You should be punching me, right now.” Dean’s face was troubled and he still couldn’t meet Castiel’s gaze. “What kind of asshole leaps on someone who already has a girlfriend.”  
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Castiel muttered.   
Dean glanced up quickly. “Who is ‘Meg’?”  
Castiel hesitated. Should he tell the truth? Should he tell him who he was? He clenched his fist. No. If he did, Dean would probably throw him out, then he had no leads whatsoever for Jimmy.   
“Meg is not my girlfriend.” Castiel said cautiously. “I’m single. And ..uh… gay.”  
“You are?” Dean frowned, tilting his head. “But the way you used to talk about women…”  
“I’m an asshole.” Castiel said flatly. It was true. That much was definitely true.  
“But you’re gay?” Dean was still perplexed on that point.  
Castiel raised a hand and rubbed his brow. “Is this a problem?”  
“Obviously not from my point of view.” Dean studied Castiel’s face. “Is that why you were beaten up? One of the guys heard you were gay?”  
Castiel dropped his gaze to the floor. "No, it is more complicated than that."  
"Explain it to me."  
"He heard a rumour I was sleeping with his girlfriend...Meg."  
"I see."  
"Look, don't get me wrong...that kiss was good. Better than good." Castiel felt his face flush and cursed himself. "But I thought you had a thing for Amelia?"  
Dean half smiled. "Gender is irrelevant. You intrigue me. I find you attractive."  
"And I didn't...before?" Castiel was curious. Jimmy had been around for at least a month before he had disappeared. Had Dean hit on Jimmy?   
Dean frowned in thought. “No. Huh.” He seemed confused. “But no. I mean, you still look like ...you… like all rumpled and sexy… but I dunno, I just wasn’t ...” He cleared his throat and met Castiel’s eyes.   
Castiel wanted to tell him. So badly. That he wasn’t Jimmy. He was him. But he couldn’t. Not yet.   
“And you kissed me, even thinking I had a girlfriend?” He couldn’t help but ask.  
Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. It was a dick move. Sorry. You were just standing there...in your...youness.”  
“Would you do it again?” Castiel asked softly.   
Dean looked up sharply. “What?”  
Castiel limped forward slowly. “I barely got the chance to enjoy the last one, so would you do it again while I’m paying attention?” His lips partly slightly as he bit the lower one between his teeth.   
He watched Dean’s eyes drop to his mouth then back up again.   
Castiel, in perfect mirror of Dean’s actions a few moments ago, put his hands on the butchers block either side of Dean. There was barely two inches between the two men. Dean brushed his fingers lightly against Castiel’s waist, causing him to draw in a sharp breath. His lips parted, Dean’s eyes dropped against to his lips, drawing Castiel into the vee of his thighs.   
Their lips met gently this time, a testing, tasting, sliding. Castiel closed his eyes and sank into the feeling, wanting to remember this. If it would never happen again, he needed to remember this. After a few moments, his brain just short circuited. He could feel Dean’s hands on his back, sliding down to his butt.   
“Whoa, shit!”   
Castiel jerked backward, and grunted in pain at the sharp movement. Dean swore too, and grabbed for Castiel. He turned fierce eyes on the intruder.   
“Sammy, what the fuck?” Dean’s voice was angry.   
Castiel could feel the bright flush burn on his face.   
“Don’t look at me.” Sam Winchester protested. “I wasn’t the one manhandling our cook.”   
“Chef,” Castiel snapped.  
Dean looked at him oddly, before looking back at his brother. “What’s the problem, Sam?”  
“The problem is - you came in here to grab the water canteens. I come to find you, and you are here making out with Jimmy. Forgive me for being a little surprised.” Sam’s voice was a little harsh.   
“Hey,” Castiel interjected, a little temper roughening his voice. “It wasn’t on him. I was meant to be upstairs. But the place was left in a mess, and this, as you say, is my job.”  
“Jimmy.” Dean held up his hand.   
“You guys work your asses off, I get that.” Castiel ignored Dean and limped around the side of the table. “It’s a different world out here. But frankly, sometimes it sucks.” He stood in front of Sam, looking up into face, almost enjoying the uncomfortable expression. “Your brother?” He pointed at Dean. “He saved my ass. God knows how long I would have lain out there unconscious. So if that comment is meant in any way to be disrespectful to me, because I am just a ‘cook’ in your eyes, or to your brother because he was concerned that I was being an idiot by being out of bed to early, well frankly, Sam Winchester, you can go to hell.”

Dean folded his arms across his chest, huffed out a breath and rose his brows at his younger brother. He was used to giving Sammy shit, and the same was expected in return. What was absolutely unusual was the leap to his defence. They usual scuttled away before the might of the Moose. But there was Jimmy, glowering up at Sam, despite his injuries, the light of temper in those blue eyes.   
It really flipped all his switches.   
He couldn’t help but smirk at his brother. Let him deal with Jimmy.  
He watched Sam flush with embarrassment and rub the back of his neck and had to admit, he enjoyed watching the scene a lot.  
“Look, uhhh,” Sam held up his hands in self defence. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean any disrespect. I was just busting Dean’s chops. Really. It’s what brother’s do.”  
Dean’s smile faded slightly when he saw JImmy’s shoulders slump a little. “Yeah. That’s what brother’s do.” He stepped up beside Jimmy and laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You will get used to it, Jimmy.”   
He was startled when Jimmy shrugged off his hand, giving him a dark look. His smile faded completely when he watched Jimmy shuffle back down the passageway.   
“Dean?” Sam ventured.  
“Yeah?”  
“Who was that masked man?”  
“I dunno.” Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and smiled. “But I like him.”  
“He cooks well.”  
“He does. You gonna be a dick about the fact that he’s a guy?”   
“I’m always gonna be a dck because you are my brother.”  
“Fair enough.” Dean acknowledged.   
“You really like him?”  
“So far.”  
“Let’s go, Casanova.”  
“Jerk.”  
“Bitch.”


	6. Six

The ranch house was quiet all morning. He watched Dean and Sam leave for the barns from his upstairs bedroom window. You didn’t have to get close to see they were brothers. The same tall, well built forms, same easy slouching walk, but it was Dean who glanced back at the house.

Castiel lowered himself down slowly to the bed again. He leaned back on the pillows and stared at the phone in his hand. The screen was cracked from his attack. He thumbed the power button and was relieved when the device turned on.

As the device dinged, he thought back, a smile curving his lips as he considered the events of the past twenty minutes. Dean Winchester had a kiss that could scramble his brain and he wanted more. Badly. As soon as he heard news of Jimmy, he would tell Dean who he really was. He would.

His phone vibrated in his palm and he input the PIN. It proceded to shake, and buzz and ding as a multitude of messages and notifications started coming in. He thumbed open his SMS’s. Several messages from work colleagues. Where was he? Where had he gone? Why didn’t he come into work?

Several calls from Naomi. He sighed and accessed his message bank. The messages got steadily more strident. Eventually, it culminated in a flat ‘you’re fired’. That had been sent this morning while he had been making out with Dean in the kitchen.

He considered what the hell he was going to do about Nick. He needed to talk to him, the only reason he hadn’t revealed his suspicions that Nick was the one who had beaten him. He considered his options and dialled Garth’s number.

 _“Hey hey, good buddy. How’re you feeling?”_ The cheerful voice was just a little subdued.

“Hey, Garth. Doing okay. Hey, can you carve out a bit of time to come see me this morning?”

_“Sure, I got time in an hour. Seeya then.”_

Castiel, used to the way Garth managed phone calls, just hung up right after. He headed down to the kitchens, and pulled the ingredients for lunch from the refrigerator. He spent the next hour prepping massive doorstop sandwiches for the ranch hands.

“Hey there, man, how’re you doin’?” Garth’s drawl came from the doorway where he was toeing off his boots.

“Garth.” Castiel put the last of the wrapped sandwiches in the cooler. “Hey.” He closed the lid. “No one else is out there?”

“Nope. All on my ownsome.” Garth sat down on a chair, studying Castiel thoughtfully. “What’s goin’ on, Castiel.”

Castiel breathed a soft laugh. “I had almost forgotten that was my actual name.”

“Yeah, interestin’ decision that one. Gonna ruffle some feathers when it comes out.”

“I’m hoping to find Jimmy and I kind of want your help.”

“Sure.” Garth didn’t even hesitate.

Castiel smiled. “You didn’t even hear what I had to ask.”

Garth shrugged and grinned. “Didn’t have to, buddy. Tell me what ya need.”

“I think Nick was the one who beat me up. He said something to me before he punched my lights out. That he told me to get the ‘fuck’ away from the ranch or he would beat me within an inch of my life. Then he proceeded to beat me within an inch of my life.”

“Nick?” Garth straightened imperceptibly, the smile fading from his lips. “That asshole.”  
“He still on site?”

“Yeah.” Garth stood up slowly, his socked feet silent on the stone floor as he paced. “You should tell Dean.”

“No,” Castiel said quickly. “Not yet, at least. I want to talk to him. About Jimmy. When he last saw him. If he did something to him.”

Garth fisted his hands beside his thighs. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you get him alone? Somewhere I can come talk to him?” Castiel asked.

“Uhh,” Garth scratched his head, underneath his stetson. “Yeah. What about into Bozeman? I need to go on a run this afternoon. Howsabout you get away too, meet us in town?”

“Yeah,” Castiel said quietly. “I can do that.”

 

“I want to go into Bozeman this afternoon,” Castiel said, looking studiously at the BBQ he was setting.

Dean leaned forward in his chair. He had found Castiel after lunch when the man hadn’t joined the rest of the hands for lunch. No way was Castiel going to tell them that he couldn’t stand the thought of eating at the same table with Nick. He had seen the man joking and laughing with the other hands as he approached for lunch. While the others had thanked him and asked how he was doing, Nick had remained silent. They didn’t even comprehend that one of their own could have done it.

Garth had put around the tale that it was a jealous boyfriend who had driven out from Bozeman that had beaten up Castiel. He was just glad Dean wasn’t around to hear the teasing he had gotten for that little lie, even though it was partially embedded in truth. When he found him, Jimmy was going to sit and have a discussion with his brother.

“Is something wrong?” Dean asked, concern for Castiel etched on his handsome face.

“I just want to check that my ribs will heal correctly. Go for an xray.” The lie came awkwardly from his mouth, he couldn’t even look at Dean.

“I can take you, if you want.” Dean stood, setting aside his cup of coffee.

“I’m fine to drive, Dean.” Castiel struggled to hold onto his composure. “I will be home in time to do dinner.”

Dean reached out and clasped Castiel on the upper arm, then slid his palm down to touch his hand. Castiel looked down at their joined hands and his throat burned. “May I see you tonight? After dinner? Just to talk? We haven’t done a lot of that.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. This man was so good. So achingly sweet. He didn’t deserve to be lied to. “I would like that,” he murmured.

“Dean?”

Dean slowly let go of Castiel’s hand and turned to look at his brother. “Yeah?”

“Come on. We gotta go.” Sam jerked his head sideways.

“See you tonight,” Dean said quietly.

Castiel just smiled at him.

 

Cleaning up after lunch, he saw Garth and Nick head off in one of the ranch trucks. He gave them a twenty minute head start before getting in the Lincoln. The damn thing was costing him a fortune in rental. But it was worth it, he supposed. Unless he didn’t get another job. What was he thinking? Of course he would. He just had to get back to New York. Then he could get his life back together.

He refused to think about Dean Winchester. 


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question and Answer time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for hate speech!
> 
> Warning also for violence. But it's Supernatural, so this can't come as a surprise.

_Broken Horse._

 

The text came through half an hour after he got to Bozeman. Castiel found a park outside the bar and headed in. The place was a total dive. He really didn’t want to know what was making his boots stick to the flooring.

Plates of food trailed from the kitchen, piled with fries and limp salad. Castiel wrinkled his nose at the deep fried oil smell. He spotted Garth in a back table, facing the door. The hulking shape opposite him could only be Nick.

Castiel hesitantly joined them, nerves coiling in his belly.

“Well, well, what’re you doin’ here?” Garth beamed up at him with a wink.

Nick looked up at him, annoyance colouring his expression at the interruption to his meal of hamburger and fries, he did a double take and slowly put down the burger. He dusted off his hands.

“What do you want?” Nick growled.

“To talk,” Castiel said quietly.

“About what?”

“I know it was you. The other night?” Castiel gestured at his still bruised and swollen features.

Nick shifted his eyes away from Castiel, down to his plate. “No clue what you are talking about.”

“Oh I think you do. Problem is, I’m not the one you intended to hurt, and I’m just curious as to what you did to my brother.”

Nick blinked, looked to Garth, who only beamed at him brightly. “I don’t...what…”

“My name is Castiel.” Castiel held out his ID. Nick glanced down at it, back to Castiel’s face and back down.

“I don’t...you look…”

“I get that a lot,” he said flatly. “Now where is my brother?”

Nick put his hands on the table to shove back. “You are crazy, man. I don’t know anything about anyone’s brother..” His chair tipped a little on two legs before he stared wildly down at the solid boot hooked in the cross bar. He looked up at Garth, whose smile had turned a little feral.

Castiel felt a flash of warmth for the gangly man now resting his pointed chin on his hands. He turned back to Nick, and pulled up a chair.

He sat, and asked again, his voice soft: “Where is Jimmy?”

“He took off.”

“Yes, with your help. Where is he, Nick?”

Nick grimaced. “I…” He scowled fiercely, and looked up. “I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“Now see, hoss…” Garth began, conversationally. “The thing you gotta consider is - folks back at the ranch? They believed it when I said it was a jealous jackass of a boyfriend that beat the shit out of Jimmy and took off again. They don’t know that jealous jackass is you. Now sure, you could probably take me down with a couple punches, Castiel here? Probably one…”

“Hey!” Castiel was momentarily offended.

“But if you don’t spill right now, I will tell ‘em that it was you. Now, Jimmy here? He ...or rather Castiel here...now what you don’t know is that he is a chef from New York …. well, they like his cooking quite a lot. And if you have been payin’ any kind of attention, y’know that the boss has taken an awful fondness for the guy he thinks is Jimmy.”

“Garth…” Castiel groaned and covered his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t beat the shit out of all of them. Pretty sure Charlie will just love to rip your nuts off. She is particularly fond of Castiel’s lasagna.”

Garth lapsed into silence, the smile bright. “Ask your question again, Castiel.”

Castiel blinked, recovering from the warm defence. “I uhh..” He looked at Nick. “Where is Jimmy?”

“I beat him up and chucked him out of my truck outside of Belgrade.” The words tumbled out over one another. “Told him not to come back.” He looked fiercely at Castiel. “Why the hell are you pretending to be Jimmy? I wouldn’t have touched you if you weren’t pretending to be Jimmy.”

Castiel’s hands were white knuckled on the table top. He was trying to tamp down on the violence stirring in his blood. His voice came out in a hiss. “You beat him up and dumped him?”

“Had to teach him a lesson…” Nick was trying to regain his bravado.

“A lesson? Really?” Castiel’s voice was flat, rough. He could see Garth looking at him with concern.  

“He shouldn’t touch another man’s woman.”

“I saw the way you touched Meg. You seem to make a habit of using your fists when someone does something you don’t like.”

“You saw Meg? What the fuck were you doing talking to Meg?”

Castiel exploded out of his chair, grabbed Nick by the collar, twisted his fist and toppled Nick onto the back two legs of his chair. The bigger, stronger man went red in the face and scrabbled at Castiel’s hand. Lifting massive trays from ovens, full pots from stoves and working out at a gym five days a week, he was not without his own strength.

“You are an asshole,” Castiel said softly. “Leave Meg alone. Leave me alone. If I hear you have laid a finger on anyone in anger, ever again, I will find a way to make your life a misery. It will be my singular pleasure. Not all of us have to do our thinking with our fists.”

He let go, Nick’s chair crashed all four legs back to the ground. He was rasping and coughing. Garth whistled, impressed.

“Wait until the boys find out about you and the boss! Pair of fags! No one will …” He didn’t even get the sentence out. Castiel bunched his fist and let fly. Nick’s head snapped back and his eyes rolled up in his head. He tilted over sideways and slumped to the floor.

“Hoo-wee!” Garth clapped Castiel on the shoulder. “Now that was purely the most precious sight in all of Christendom, brother.”

“That really hurt…” Castiel shook out his hand.

“Wait until I tell the others…” Garth shook his head, laughing.

“You can’t say anything.” Castiel flexed his fist and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. He headed for the door, Garth in hot pursuit. “I need to find Jimmy. If he dumped him out near the airport, maybe he was taken to a hospital.”

“Or he got on a plane out of Montana?”

“Not without his wallet.” Castiel pulled it out from his back pocket and showed Garth the ID. Garth looked darkly over his shoulder at Nick.

“That means that a-hole grabbed Jimmy right from the ranch. Ain’t no way Jimmy would leave without his cash. Can’t buy the ladies rounds of drinks without it.” He rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed. “Maybe you should ask Dean for some help to find Jimmy? He’s a good guy.”

“My brother is my responsibility,” Castiel said fiercely. “I will not drag anyone else into our problems.”

“How long you been cleanin’ up his messes, buddy?” Garth asked, curious.

Castiel didn’t answer, just shrugged off Garth’s hand, pulling out his phone and searched for the numbers of local hospitals.

 

He drew the Lincoln to a halt on the gravel outside the ranch house and leaned his forehead on the wheel. He had left Bozeman on last light, arriving in full dark. Tiredness washed over him in a wave. The sound of the driver’s side door opening startled him and he met Dean’s calm green gaze as he squatted beside him.

“I’m sorry about dinner.” Castiel rasped, leaning back wearily in his seat. “I underestimated…”

“It’s okay, we handled it. You alright?” Dean touched his bruised face with gentle fingers.

“Yes.” Castiel got out of the car and immediately groaned, clutching his side. Everything ached. And his head pounded. Dean caught him before his knees crumpled, his arm strong across Castiel’s chest. Castiel found he had coiled his hand into Dean’s shirt and was clinging to him. He felt a flush of embarrassment warm his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“You need to rest,” Dean said, his tone brooking no argument.

Castiel merely nodded, and with strength of will, drew himself upright. “I’m sorry, our plans…”

“Will wait.” Dean let go, watching concerned as Castiel wavered.

Castiel took a few limping steps toward the bunkhouse, his knee and hip were aching deeply.

“Jimmy?” Dean called after him. Cautiously, Castiel turned, wishing with all his heart that Dean knew his name.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” The question made him want to weep and he turned away before Dean could see it.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths

The morning bell rang as it always did: too early. Castiel cracked his eyelids open and scrubbed his hand down his face. He'd barely had the presence of mind to do more than strip to his boxer shorts and crawl into bed. He needed to splash water on his face.

Groaning, he got out of bed and headed for the shower room attached to the bunkhouse. The guys were in various states of undress, joking and laughing. Castiel walked through, scrubbing his hand through the dark spikes of his hair.

He only became aware that silence had descended when he heard someone say, "Holy shit, Jimmy."

"Huh?" He blinked at Aaron owlishly. "Wassup?"

"Holy shit. We know you got hit and all, but damn."

"It looks a lot worse than what it is," Castiel shrugged.

The men gathered, eyeing his bruises and scrapes. Castiel felt like a zoo exhibit.

"Who did this, man?" Aaron asked quietly. "That shit ain't right. You are one of us now, man. You gotta let us deal with him."

"No. Wait. No," Castiel held up his hands. "I'm fine, really. The guy has been dealt with. Really. Don't sweat it. I'm fine. Doc's cleared me and everything."

His eyes met Garth's through the crowd. The other man had his arms crossed over his chest and he had a look of disapproval on his narrow face.

"I gotta go get your breakfast, unless you assholes want cold cereal."

The guys laughed, one or two clapping him cautiously on the back.

The day passed as Castiel rang around hospitals, getting put on hold, getting nowhere with tracking down his brother, making a huge BBQ for the midday meal, then trying again with the next medical centre.

He was forced to go further afield. And it was in the midst of dinner prep when he got a phone call that made his gut spiral. A John Doe had been admitted to a hospital in Bozeman, matching the photograph that Castiel had sent them. The guy had been unconscious for a few days so they flew him to Helena for X Rays and a variety of other scans. A doctor who had been off duty for a couple of days had recognised the picture. Castiel had his eyes shut against the wave of nausea and relief that swelled over him, his phone clutched in his hand, leaning against the sink with his chin to his chest.

It was thus that Dean found him.

"Hey." Dean's voice was concerned. "What's wrong?" His hand soothed down Castiel’s spine.

“I just got some news I was waiting for.” Castiel’s voice broke and his breath hitched.

Dean gently folded Castiel into his arms, At first Castiel was a little rigid, then he just melted against Dean, needing his warmth and curling himself into it. If his face was damp when it pressed against the curve of Dean’s neck, Dean didn’t say anything. He just held him, asking no questions.

The scent of something burning had Castiel lifting his head and drawing away, but he kept hold of Dean’s arms.

“I’m sorry. I will get dinner done.”

“Jimmy…” Dean brushed his cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now. I can’t. Dinner…” Castiel met Dean’s eyes and just wanted to sink into those depths.

“After.” It wasn’t a question.

Castiel raised a hand, curved it over Dean’s cheek. He brushed his thumb over the corner of his lips and the sharp arch of his cheekbone. “After.”

Dean’s expression grew dark, his hand pressing over Castiel’s, before he turned his head and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s palm. He let go, took a step back, then a second one. Took a deep calming breath then headed out to the verandah and the rest of the crew.

Dean took his seat halfway down the table and heard Charlie’s bright voice ask where Nick was. The reply came from Garth.

“Guy decided to move on. Gotta job offer elsewhere, I reckon. Packed up his gear and headed off.”

Dean frowned, glanced at Sam. Sam met his gaze and shrugged, shaking his head. He linked his hands together, elbows on the edge of the table flanking his plate and  rested his chin on them. “When was this, Garth?” He went for friendly interest and a half smile.

“Just today, boss,” Garth replied with a beaming smile. “Real odd. Said he’d had a fight with Meg, his missus.”

“Did he?” Dean’s jaw flexed. “Well it will be a shame to see him go. I would have liked to have said goodbye.”

The table was distracted then by JImmy bringing out massive trays of vegetables. The crowning glory was corned beef. There was silence at the table. A little bit of confusion.

“Uhh, Jimmy?” Charlie asked delicately. “Why are you feeding us ...salted beef?”

“Just try it, heathens,” Jimmy replied, with a crooked smile that had Dean longing to drag him upstairs. “My own recipe. I promise it ain’t what your mama used to make.”

His attempt at a southern accent drew groans.

They looked to Dean and Sam. Dean wrinkled his nose. Corned meat was not something he had ever really tried. He picked up his fork and stabbed a decent amount. His eyes met Jimmy’s over the tray.

Keeping his eyes fixed on those wary bright blue eyes, Dean opened his mouth, warily took in the food and started chewing. His eyes went wide. He glanced at the others at the table, then back to Jimmy. He stabbed at a slab of the stuff with his fork and dragged it to his plate.

“The rest of you bastards will have to fight me for it,” he growled aloud. He didn’t miss the smile of pleasure on Jimmy’s face.

He knew he would have said the same thing, even if the stuff was inedible, just to see that smile.

Castiel returned to the kitchen and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He shook his head. He had actually served corned beef. Naomi would have choked. But he still remembered his mother’s recipe. Peppercorns, allspice, bay leaves and a dash of sweet chilli in the water and vinegar mix. Slow cooked for seven hours.

“Joinin’ us tonight, brother?” Garth’s voice was cheery at the doorway.

“No. Not tonight.” Castiel shook his head.

“He’s gone, y’know. Came back this afternoon. Packed his shit and lit out like the hounds of hell were after him.”

“Good.” Castiel nodded. “Good. I got a lead on …” He glanced at the doorway behind Garth. “...I got a lead.”

“Hey! That’s awesome.” Garth beamed.

“I owe you my thanks.” Castiel lowered his voice.

“Aww, nah.” Garth waved away the sentiment. “Believe me, was my pleasure to help.”

“Garth, really.” Castiel pulled a business card from his pocket and held it out. “This is me. In New York. You need anything at all, you tell me.”

“You leavin’ us, hoss?” Garth stared down at the cream coloured rectangle of material.

“When I find Jimmy. Yes.”

“What about the boss?” Garth’s voice dropped barely above a whisper. “Ain’tchya gonna tell him? Like before it all comes out?”

“I don’t…” Castiel reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

“He don’t deserved to be lied to, Cas.” Garth regarded Castiel seriously. “He’s a good man.”

“The best.” Castiel agreed, and met Garth’s gaze steadily. “But I have to go home sometime.”

Garth looked disappointed, an expression Castiel found intensely uncomfortable. “Maybe you should stop leading him on then.”

“I’m not…” Castiel protested.

Garth shook his head. “I like you, brother. A lot. So I’m gonna say this. I seen the way the boss looks at you, and you look at him when ya think no one else is watching. This place? It’s in Dean Winchester’s heart and soul. It’s another member of the family, as is all who work on her.” He leaned forward on the butcher’s block. “But you are in there a little deeper, I reckon. Not sure when it happened, or what your feelings are back, but by lyin’ to him you are doin’ yourself and him a big fucked up disservice. Not even sure why you still need to lie.”

Castiel pressed the heel of his hand into his temple. “I know. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“Aww, nahh.” Garth chucked Castiel on the shoulder. “Ya just tied yaself up into a mess ya don’t know how to get out of. That brother of yours owes a fairly big, dozen roses and a box o’ chocolates style apology.”

“I will just be happy if he is alright.”

“Seems to me like Jimmy still needs his ass kicking.”

Castiel held out his hand. “I have no idea what I have done to become your friend, but you are a good  man, Garth. I appreciate it.”

Garth gripped his hand in a surprisingly hard shake. “I can tell a good one when I see it.” He winked. “So can the boss.”

Castiel just flushed.

The hands had headed back to the bunkhouses. There was no leftovers. None. Every plate scraped clean. Castiel smiled. His mama’s recipe was a surefire winner. He paused, surprised. Had he just said that? He was losing it.

“I’ll dry.” Dean appeared at his side at the sink, towel in hand.

Castiel just smiled at him.

For a long while, they washed and dried in silence, the clink of ceramics and metal flatware the only sound. Glances were given. Hands brushed.

Later, he followed Dean upstairs to the sitting room that looked out over the ranch with it’s big picture windows. The moon washed everything silver.

Dean sat down at one end of the couch. Castiel hesitated at first, then took the seat next to him. Dean held out his hand, palm up. Castiel couldn’t resist. He placed his own palm over Dean’s, linking their hands.

“You intrigue me, Jimmy,” Dean said softly. “I struggle to equate the man I hired to cook for the crew with the man who sits beside me.”

“Oh?” Castiel managed, and immediately mentally kicked his own ass for that inspired response.

Dean held up a hand. He stuck out his thumb. “Different.” Forefinger. “Chef.” Third finger. “Meg.” Fourth. “Protective. Older brother protective.” Fifth. “Distracting.” He paused, tilted his head. “Should I continue?”

Castiel went to withdraw his hand, but Dean held tight. Blue eyes clashed with green. “Dean.”

“Who are you?” Dean asked softly. “I wasn’t born a fool, I wasn’t raised as one. Are you planning on making me one?”

Castiel closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. He took in a slow breath. “No,” he murmured. “My name is Castiel Novak. Jimmy is my brother.”


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needed discussion - but it's not over yet.
> 
> EDIT: I disliked what I wrote in the original Chapter 9 quite a bit. It didn't turn out the way I intended because I was having a bad day and just couldn't write anything angsty. I hope that you approve of the changes. Sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you understand the divergence from the 12th Night storyline. It was only meant be inspired by. I hope you are still enjoying it.

Castiel couldn’t bear to meet Dean’s steady gaze. The weight of his duplicity over the past several days was heavy.

“I would like to hear your explanation of things, Castiel.” Dean’s use of his name had him flinching slightly. The slight edge to its use made his stomach roil. Castiel disentangled his fingers from Dean and this time, the man did not hold on.

“Garth contacted me when Jimmy disappeared.” Castiel glanced up. “None of this was his fault. He was just trying to help Jimmy.”

“But he is aware of your true identity?

Castiel hesitated, and nodded.

“I’m curious as to why you felt the need to assume your brother’s identity.”

“I didn’t know what had happened to Jimmy. He can be a bit ...wild. I was worried that someone had done something to him.” Castiel raked his fingers through his hair, spiking the dark strands. “And I didn’t know if it was someone on this ranch. When you assumed I was Jimmy, I thought ‘why not?’.”

“I see.” Dean’s voice was emotionless.

“It took a while, but I figured out what happened to him. He’s in a hospital in Helena because Nick hurt him bad enough that he was in a coma for a few days. That was the call I got just before you found me in the kitchen tonight.”

“When you were hurt, you said that your attacker thought you were someone else. Was Nick the one who hurt you, thinking you were Jimmy?”

Castiel shifted awkwardly on the couch seat. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t think, at this point, that you should have told me that one of my employees was a violent criminal?” Dean was still watching him steadily, his voice now dark and rough, as though his anger was barely held in check.

“I handled it.”

“Handled it?” Dean laughed mirthlessly. “Those bruises still on your face tell me otherwise.”

“He won’t touch Meg or Jimmy again.”

“Meg? So Meg is a real person?”

“Yes. One that I believe my brother slept with. Nick’s girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend.”

“So you didn’t do the responsible thing and report him to me, or the police so that others might be protected?”

Castiel frowned, unused to having his motivations questioned. “I did what I needed to, to find my brother.”

“I saw the new bruises on your knuckles, Castiel.” Dean shifted from anger to sarcasm. “I suppose you would like to avoid having a discussion with the police as well?”

Castiel’s jaw flexed and he stood up abruptly. “I don’t owe you any more of an explanation, Dean. I get you feel hurt, but I won’t be apologising any more for it. I know where my brother is now, so this entire damn charade is over.”

Dean’s hand was clenched into a fist where is rested on his thigh. He was staring at a spot on the floor, just to the side of Castiel’s feet. “Was any of it real? Or did you just flirt with me to find out if I knew anything?”

Castiel’s mouth dropped open, before closing with a click. For some inexplicable reason tears burned in his eyes, and his voice was rough when he spoke. “It was real. Very real. When you kissed me it was like you burned a brand on me. But every time you called me ‘Jimmy’, it felt like you were kissing someone else.”

“Well,” Dean said flatly. “Whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” Castiel replied bitterly. “Good night, Dean.”

 

Dean watched Castiel Novak walk out of his loungeroom. He heard the front door close after a while and covering his face with his hands he groaned aloud, and sighed. Nicely handled, Winchester. The guy was looking out for his brother. Let’s be honest, what wouldn’t you do for Sammy if you had to?

But who the hell was Castiel? When he thought Castiel was Jimmy, he felt he was on familiar ground. The attraction was real. The want was real. But now Jimmy was really Castiel, where did that leave it? The guy would go back to his life now he had found his brother, would go back to his job. The owner of a ranch in Montana that he had barely known a week…

He rubbed the back of his neck, the muscles there tense enough to cause the low thrum of a headache that throbbed at his temples. He rose slowly to his feet. If he hadn’t acted out his hurt on Castiel, he might have been enjoying a much more pleasant evening. Instead, he was damn well going to go out, do a last check of the barns and the cattle in the yards, and go to bed. Alone.

 

Dean swept the torchlight along the stalls. The horses were bedded down with clean straw. The tack was shining and the yard swept. When the beam of light fell on a tall, skinny man frowning at him disapprovingly, Dean jumped, his heart slamming in his chest.

“Hell! Garth? What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Wanted to have a quiet like chat, if ya have a moment, boss,” Garth said politely enough.

Dean swiped the back of his hand over his brow. “I need a word with you too.”

“What did ya say to Jimmy? He came inta the bunkhouse lookin’ like someone kicked his puppy.”

“You mean Castiel?” Dean snapped.

“So he told ya?” Garth nodded approvingly. “Good.”

“Only after I made it clear I knew he was lying.”

Garth screwed up his face. “He was fair worried about his brother. Left a high flyin’ job in New York to come out here. Got the sense he cleans up after the messes Jimmy leaves behind a fair bit. Bustin’ him outta jail, gettin’ him rehab help.”

“Lying to people. Manipulating them.”

“Aww, c’mon.” Garth protested. “He don’t know us from other folks. He knows what Jimmy’s like, but he didn’t know if’n any of us had hurt him some.”

“He seemed to think you were on the up and up.” Dean narrowed his eyes at Garth.

“Well yeah, I called him to say that his bro was missin’.” Garth seemed to clue in that Dean was angry at him. “Hey wait a damn minute. Don’t you go bein’ all pissy at me.” Garth pointed a finger at Dean. “He told me he lost his job over this. After Nick beat him up, he missed his flight back ta New York. Boss called him and fired him via message bank. Jimmy is gonna owe him awful big.”

“Ahh, yes. Nick.” Dean folded his arms across his chest. “So you knew about his involvement?”

“Only when Cas asked me to help him out.” Garth immediately realised he had said the wrong thing.

“Asked you… “

“Wait ...I don’t think it meant that he didn’t trust you.” Garth went red faced. “He just wanted to keep those who knew about the whole situation real small. Protecting his brother. Guess he figured if you didn’t know anything, Jimmy wouldn’t lose his job.”

“And he could head back to New York and find a new position as a… what does he even do? Is he even a chef?”

“Yep. That was true enough.”

“Where is Nick now?”

“Dunno. He came in, collected all his shit and lit out. You should have seen Cas, boss. He fair laid into Nick for what he done.”

“Using violence to find out about his brother-”

Garth made a snorting sound, interrupting Dean. “Wha’? Hell no, boss. You got that all wrong. He went real quiet and up in Nick’s face. He didn’t hit him once. Nick just about wet hisself when Cas really got going. Temper on that boy is pretty damn scary.”

“But he did hit him?”

“Once. Knocked him clean out. When he used a real nasty slur about you and him.” Garth cleared his throat. “Y’know, bein’ together an’ all.”

“We aren’t together,” Dean said automatically. “So he hit Nick when Nick called him a nasty name?”

“He hit Nick when Nick called you a nasty name, sir,” Garth said quietly. “Castiel is one scary mother under that tax accountant exterior, boss. And he seems to think a lot of you. Guess he just didn’t know how to get out from under the lie he had created.”

Dean rammed his hands into his pockets. “I think I fucked up, Garth.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think ya did too.”

Dean screwed up his face. “Fuck.”

Garth patted Dean on the shoulder. “You will figure it out, boss. Ya just got ya pride dented some.”

“I gotta fix this,” Dean muttered. “Don’t say anything to Cas yet. But I’m going to fix this.”

  
Garth watched his boss stride quickly up to the ranch house, pulling his phone from his pocket. He patted the muzzle of the horse who stuck it’s head over its gate at him, seeking a treat. He whistled cheerfully. Good deed done.


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regarding brotherly love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have removed the previous effort and rewritten Chapter Nine - so if you haven't read the update, you will need to reread or this won't make sense. Sorry. The notes there explain.

“Can I see you in private for a moment please, Castiel?” Dean hadn’t joined the rest of the hands for breakfast, but now appeared in the doorway, regarding the table of the quietly talking ranch hands as they sipped their coffee and spooned cereal.

“Huh? Who’s Castiel?” Charlie blinked, her mouthful of cereal hovering on its spoon halfway to her mouth.

Castiel clambered up from the bench. “I will explain.” His face felt suddenly warm and nausea coiled in his gut. “But not right now.”

“Who’s Castiel?” Charlie stared around at the rest of the hands. They shrugged.

 

Castiel followed Dean to his downstairs office.

“Close the door,” Dean said gently, “And take a seat.”

Castiel did so, and hesitated. The room was one he hadn’t been in before. The desk was piled high with papers and files, the bookshelves were stacked with folders, a shelf with trophies from what looked like rodeo competitions.

Finally he studied Dean as he drew closer and sat on the offered chair. Dean looked tired. He was still wearing the same clothing from the night before, though now wrinkled. Dark shadows curved under his eyes.

“I have some news you will find frustrating,” Dean said quietly.

Panic widened Castiel’s eyes. “What? Is it Jimmy?”

“Yes.” Dean propped his fingers on the desk, leaning forward. “I found the hospital in Helena that Jimmy was sent to, saying I was an employer worried about his missing employee, etc. I confirmed they had Jimmy by sending them a photograph.”

Castiel swallowed. “Just tell me. What has happened?”

“He left the hospital yesterday. He had been conscious for a couple of days, refused to tell anyone who he was and just walked out. Didn’t check himself out. Stole clothing, and just headed off. The nurses discovered during bed check. They searched the hospital.”

Castiel leaned his elbows on his knees and his head drooped. “God. Jimmy.” His fists white knuckled. His breath came unsteadily. “He was probably panicking about the hospital bill.”

The touch on his back was tentative at first, but then the broad palm splayed wide against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cas. I really am.”

“What do I do?” Castiel said, his voice choked. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I have notified the Helena PD and the Bozeman PD, they are going to put out a Missing Persons report. I didn’t have your number, so I gave them mine. I sent through the photo from his personnel file here.”

Castiel tipped his head back. “Thank you, Dean. You didn’t have to do that for him. But I really appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do it for him, Castiel.” Dean have him the faintest corner tilt of a smile. “I did it for you.”

Dean’s hand slid from his shoulder as he walked back to his desk. Castiel already missed it’s warmth. Then it dawned on him. “You stayed up all night dealing with that, didn’t you?”

Dean pursed his lips a little, then shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Dean…”

“Look, Castiel. I get it, alright. I understand why you did what you did. Took a fair bit of thinking on my part, and a tongue lashing from Garth, but I got it.”

“Garth …” Castiel was stunned.

“Yeah.” Dean scrubbed at his head, embarrassed. “The man gave me hell for not being a little more understanding. You have a good friend there. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. As soon as the cops know more, I will get hold of you right away.”

Castiel stood up, approached Dean and held out his hand. Dean took it. Castiel studied Dean’s face cautiously. “I wish I could go back and do the last few days differently. I wish I could have kissed you as Castiel.”

“It’s never too late,” Dean said in his quiet way.

“It isn’t?” Castiel rested his palm against Dean’s chest, the soft fabric of his shirt a counterpoint to the strength beneath.

“No.” Dean cupped one hand behind Castiel’s head and drew him in, first for a gentle, lips barely brushing kiss, then another a little firmer. Castiel opened his mouth, and drew Dean in, sucking lightly on his incredible lower lip, before flicking his tongue out to tease Dean’s.

He felt, rather than heard a low rumble from Dean, a warning before he was pulled into a hard embrace. Castiel murmured his approval, his palm skimming up to rest against Dean’s throat. His thumb skimmed the sharp jawline, prickled by the unshaven gingerish beard.

Their tongues dipped into each other’s mouths, a sliding give and take that suggested other, more intimate actions. He felt Dean’s hand slide down his back and curve over his ass. Castiel barely had the presence of mind to register that he should stop. He should be sensible. His world was about order in the midst of chaos. There was too much chaos right now, and his hands were currently tracing the subtle ridges of muscle on Dean’s abdomen and sides.

The onslaught of Dean’s mouth slowed, until he nipped Castiel lightly on the lower lip. “You started thinking.” Dean’s breath was coming faster now, the arousal in his eyes making them slumberous, the hardness at his groin pressed insistently against Castiel’s hip. “I suppose I should be grateful.”

“Wow.” Castiel removed his hands from under Dean’s shirt, the smooth skin was burning to the touch. “That was …” He blinked slowly. “Wow.”

“Can I tell you something?” Dean lifted his hand from Castiel’s hip and traced his kiss swollen lips with his thumb. “I’m glad you aren’t Jimmy. I know he is your brother but I found his … manner a little off putting.”

Castiel smiled wryly. “He is like that. Off putting. And at the same time the most charming bastard you can ever meet.”

“I was wondering if I was going mad, suddenly being attracted to a man I had felt no interest in before.” Dean pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “Castiel.”

“I like the way you say my name.”

“I like your name.”

“I am still going to strangle Jimmy when I find him.” Castiel took another calming breath and stepped back, willing his erection to abate. He couldn’t go back out there with a tent in his jeans.

“I might help. But then, if he hadn’t disappeared, you wouldn’t have come here.” Dean smiled.

Castiel reached out impulsively, curving his palm over Dean’s cheek. “No. I suppose not. It might have been very dull indeed.”

“Okay, I’m going to go take a cold shower. We will find Jimmy. You know he is alright, at least.”

Castiel nodded. “I will make contact with the hospital, I have bills to settle on his behalf.”

Dean frowned. “Shouldn’t he take care of them.”

Castiel laughed softly. “Jimmy doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“So you are going to bail him out?”

Castiel shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“Hmm.” Dean pulled Castiel in for one brief, fierce kiss, then stepped back. “See you at lunch.”

“Yeah.” Castiel adjusted the front of his jeans and blew out a breath. “I’m gonna need a moment here.”

Dean grinned and headed out the door. 


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh oh.

Dean handed the phone to Castiel. “It’s the Helena PD, they have an update on Jimmy.”

Castiel set down the spoon he was holding, wiped his hands on his apron and took the mobile. “Hello, Castiel Novak speaking.”

_“Good morning, my name is Officer Elliot. Mister Novak, I thought you would like to know, a man matching your brother’s description was seen hitching a ride south on the Veterens Memorial Highway late yesterday afternoon.”_

“Hitching?” Castiel sighed. “Damn it.”

 _“We have sent through his description to Butte and other towns along that route. We are hoping someone will pick him up._ ”

“Thank you. Please let me know of any updates.”

_“Absolutely, Mister Novak. I’m sorry I can’t give you any more information.”_

“I appreciate the call.”

Castiel thumbed the End Call button and gave the phone back to Dean. He chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. “He’s in the wind, I’m afraid.” He went to pick up the spoon again.

Dean plucked the flatware from Castiel’s hand. “Stop.”

“I need to finish lunch.” Castiel reached for the spoon again.

“You don’t work for me, Castiel,” Dean said, a smile curving his lips. “You don’t have to cook anymore.”

Castiel laid his hand on Dean’s arm. “I want to.”

Dean stepped forward, his hand going to Castiel’s hip. “Your flight is in two days, Cas. Why don’t you just relax?”

“I like cooking.” Castiel leaned in and kissed Dean lightly, enjoying the surprise and sharp intake of breath. “I would like to cook you a meal tomorrow evening. My ...night off. Garth said he would run a BBQ for the guys. But I want to go in to Bozeman today. I will have lunch prepped in the fridge and -”

He was interrupted by Dean yanking him forward and kissing him senseless. Really, really senseless. It took a few minutes for him to realise he was even in the ranch house kitchen. When they broke apart to gasp in a needed breath, Castiel had found himself pressed back against the butcher’s block, his arms wrapped tightly around Dean.

“Not that I mind, but what did I do to deserve that?” Castiel murmured.

“Breathed.”

“Huh.”

Dean sighed, thumped his forehead against Castiel’s. “I gotta get back to paperwork. If I can get it done, I might actually escape the house in a couple hours.”

Castiel grinned. “See you later.”

“You got it.”

 

Castiel pulled the Lincoln into a parking space outside the shopping centre. He found it amusing he was running errands like this. When he got back to New York… He hesitated. New York? Suddenly it didn’t quite seem all that appealing. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel and sighed.

 

An hour later, he climbed back into the driver’s seat, the back seat loaded with bags of groceries for the dinner he had planned for Dean. He’d had to improvise some ingredients, but it should be amazing. He checked his watch and grumbled. He had to get going or he wouldn’t get back in time to start dinner.

He turned the key.

Nothing.

He frowned. “What the hell?”

Still nothing.

He pulled out his phone. Oh, you had to be kidding… Dead. Completely. He groaned. Someone hated him. Big time. He got out and scanned the road, and saw a mechanics workshop just down the road. He just had to hope it wasn’t too damn expensive. Jimmy’s hospital bill would put a decent dent in his savings.

 

It was nearly eleven when he pulled into the Circle W driveway. Wearily, he climbed from the car and pulled all the bags from the back. Some of the stuff was probably ruined, but right now, he didn’t give a damn.

A dark figure on one of the chairs startled him when it stood up.

“Oh, hell. You scared me.”

The figure loomed. It could only be Sam.

“I thought you were a pretty decent guy, Castiel.” The disgust in Sam’s voice startled Castiel.

“What?”

“Instead you turn out to be just another asshole. Do me a favour and pack up your gear and leave in the morning.”

“Wait. What the hell is going on?”

“I thought you and Dean had something going...so what the hell game are you playing?”

Castiel raised his hand to his forehead. “Where is Dean? What are you talking about?”

“He’s gone. Took the helicopter north to our other spread.”

Castiel blinked. “He’s done..what?”

“Leave, Castiel. This family is done with your lies.” Sam slammed into the ranchhouse.

Castiel packed away the groceries, stone faced.

When he went to the bunkhouse there were several glances sent his way, and all of them were scowls and mutters of disapproval.

“What?” He exploded, throwing his hands wide. “Seriously, what?”

“We packed your gear.” Aaron said from between clenched teeth, standing up from his bunk. The other men followed suit, a wall of inscrutable muscle. “Get gone.”

Castiel’s gaze tracked from one person to the next, finally meeting Garth’s eyes. There was no friendliness in those cold depths. He glanced at the door to his room and saw his bags sat in the open doorway.

Castiel was bewildered. What had he done? Why had Dean gone? What was so bad that the guys wouldn’t talk to him? Defeated, however, he bent to pick up the bags. His heart ached. Everything ached.  

Dean.

Where was Dean? What had he done to hurt him so badly?


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall out

 

Castiel woke, his eyes bleary and still worn out. He checked his watch. Eight. The mattress he lay on was only slightly less comfortable than the one in the bunkhouse. He had arrived at around three in the morning, and had remained staring at the ceiling of the hotel room until around five when he drifted off out of sheer exhaustion.

He had sent a message to Dean when he had finally gotten his phone recharged, and when he checked the display, there was no reply. Should he call? He hit the number and held the phone to his ear. It rang out, going to message bank.

“Hi. Dean. It’s Cas. I wish someone would tell me what happened and why you weren’t at the ranch. I got stuck in Bozeman when my car broke down. Please call me back.” He hung up.

His flight was tomorrow morning. Twenty four hours stuck here. He pressed thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets.

His morning was spent making phone calls. He spoke to the police, no one had seen anything more of Jimmy. He really had disappeared. Then he rang around his contacts in the restaurant industry. He needed a new job when he got back, his savings were rapidly depleting. Speaking of which...

“Good morning, my name is Castiel Novak. I was wondering if I could speak to someone in the accounts department?”

_“Of course, sir, just one moment.”_

Castiel waited while piped music played.

_“Paige Patterson, Accounts Department.”_

“Ms Patterson, hello. My name is Castiel Novak. You had a James Novak in your care for a couple of days. He was admitted as a John Doe before his information was updated?”

There was the clicking of a computer keyboard. _“James Novak. Ahh yes. Here it is.”_

“I wish to settle the account on his behalf.”

There was silence. _“Uhh. The account has been settled, Mister Novak.”_

Castiel frowned. “I’m sorry? Who paid it?”

_“The invoice states that it was settled by Winchester Holdings. I believe they are his employers?”_

Tears burned in Castiel’s eyes. He closed them. “Yes. They were. Thank you for that. Could you possibly send me a copy of the invoice?” He gave her his email address.

_“Of course, sir. Will that be all?”_

“Yes. Thank you for your help.”

Castiel hung up, clenching his fist around the phone. He wanted to throw it. Dean had paid everything.

 

Castiel stepped into Archipelago. He hadn’t eaten all day and the place looked as good as any other.

“Holy shit, Cas?” A warm voice greeted him, one from his past, one that was very familiar. “Cas Novak?”

He was enveloped in a huge bear hug. Gabriel. The guy he had roomed with when he had been at the Culinary Institute of New York. They had lost touch a few years ago. Castiel had started work at a restaurant there, and Gabe had gone overseas to Europe.  

“Gabe?” For the first time that day, Castiel smiled. “Gabe!”

“What are you doing here, you asshole!” Gabe let go of Castiel and slapped him lightly on the face, beaming brightly.

“Ahh, long story.” Castiel rubbed the back of his neck.

“Come. Sit. I have to cook for you.”

“I didn’t even know you were still in the business.” Castiel let Gabe lead him to an empty table in a tucked away booth. They drew curious glances. “Your name isn’t mentioned on the website.”

Gabe shrugged. “I wasn’t for a while. I’m from around here. When Dad got sick, I came home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Gabe.”

“He passed away last year, and my mother needed help. So I decided to stay, and opened this place.”

“Damn, Gabe.” Castiel shook his head, his old friend, normally so cheerful was so subdued.

“Don’t suppose you want a job, do you?” Gabe groaned, putting his hands into the small of his back and stretching. “This is killing me. The place took off and I can barely keep up.”

Castiel laughed. “If only you knew.”

“Screw it, I’m taking a break.” Gabe sat down. “So tell me this long story of yours.” He gestured to his head waiter for a couple of glasses of wine.

 

“And you have no idea what happened?”

“None.” Castiel drank the last of his glass of wine.

“Huh.” Gabe rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Weird.”

Castiel shrugged. “It is what it is. I screwed up somehow.”

“But you really like this guy, don’t you? This Dean?”

“Yeah. I really do.”

“More than like?”

“It was heading that way.”

Gabe filled his glass again with the excellent red wine.

“And what? Now you will just head on back to New York? Ask for your old job back?”

“No way in hell.” Castiel shook his head. “That woman was impossible to work for. I have a few contacts happy to have me in their kitchens.”

Gabe stood up, clapped Castiel on the shoulder. “You will sort it out. Gotta get back to my own kitchen.”

Castiel nodded, leaned back in his chair and stared moodily into the ruby red depths of his drink.

 

The food turned out to be excellent, but Castiel couldn’t stomach it. He had laid down his knife and fork, thanked Gabriel and headed back to his hotel. He couldn’t wait to be out of here. Out of tiredness he dropped onto his mattress and fell into a deep sleep.

 

The airport was flat out. Castiel checked his baggage and headed to a cafe to wait out the next hour. On his second cup of coffee, he was startled by a strident voice demanding:

“What are you doing here?”

Castiel glanced up with a frown. “Amelia?” The woman stood there, clutching her handbag to her side. Her eyes were wide, surprised.

“What are you doing here?” She asked again, her eyes suddenly awash with tears.

 _What the hell?_ “I’m going back to New York.”

“Going to ...New York. You told me you were going to the ranch.”

“What? When did I tell you that?”

“Night before last, you asshole!” Amelia’s lower lip wobbled. “You ...you liar. I’m glad you are leaving. I can’t bear to be around you.”

Castiel stood up as Amelia ran out.

Night before ...last? Was she insane?

_“Calling Flight 232 to New York. This is your call for boarding. Will all passengers please head to Gate 26. Flight 232 to New York.”_

Castiel hesitated. He rubbed his hands against his stomach where the nerves were suddenly gathering. He pulled his phone out, brought up Dean’s number and called it. It predictably went through to message bank.

“Dean? It’s Cas. Can you call me? It’s important. I know you are angry at me, but I think I can make it right. Please?”

He hung up.

_“Flight 232 to New York. Passengers head to Gate 26 please. Flight 232 to New York.”_

He was going to kill Jimmy.


	13. Thirteen

Dean lowered the collective control and the helicopter touched down at Circle W. After powering down he stepped out and tiredly swiped his hand across his face. He stowed and covered the vehicle with canvas. With his bag hitched over his shoulder, he hiked down to the house, eschewing the four wheel drive to stretch his legs.

Bright sunshine made the ranchhouse glow, with its rose and gold hued stone that Dean loved. He checked his wrist and remembered he had removed his watch while he was working in the yards and hadn’t put it back on. With a grimace he recalled the pancaked mobile phone that hadn’t withstood a tonne of cow standing on it.

The thought of Castiel Novak waiting there somewhere made him smile. It made him warm. He had no idea what the man was going to do when his brother was found...but he felt it in the depths of who he was that Castiel was really fucking important. And he didn’t want to let that go easy.

The place was quiet when he stepped up onto the verandah and toed off his boots. This time of day lunch should have been in progress, but the place was silent..and scentless.

Odd.

Dean headed upstairs to dump his gear, change into cleaner workclothes and headed back downstairs. The ranch hands were all over the yard, shifting gear, cleaning tack, currying horses. He was greeted loudly by several of the men. He scanned the cars. No Lincoln. He frowned.

Very odd.

“Hey Dean.” Sam glanced up from where he was checking items in the refrigerator they kept the medications for the animals in.

“Hey.” Dean tucked his hands into his pockets. “So where is Cas?”

Sam stiffened. He slowly straightened and closed the fridge door. When he turned his face was a study in a range of emotions, the primary one being anger, closely followed by guilt.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice hardened. “Where is Cas?”

“Gone.” Sam ran his hand through the dark strands of his hair.

Dean clenched his fists. “Why?”

“Look. Dean. You aren’t gonna like this.” Sam nervously fidgeted.

“Spit it out, Sammy. Now.”

“The guys saw Castiel in Bozeman flirting and carrying on with Amelia. They saw them get into the same cab.”

Dean scowled. “He did … what?”

“I’m sorry. I thought he was a good guy, y’know.”

Dean brought his fingertips to his brow. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“So I asked him to leave, go back to New York,  because I figured you wouldn’t want to see him when you got back.”

The sound of a car pulling into the main courtyard had both men distracted.

When the passenger stepped out, sunglasses shading his eyes, Sam narrowed his eyes. “I thought I told him to leave.” The car drove off.

Dean studied the new arrival, the initial flash of relief quickly stifled. “That isn’t Cas.”

“Of course it is.” Sam gestured at the guy.

“No.” Dean headed toward the car. “It isn’t.”

 

“Hi guys.” Jimmy Novak’s mouth was screwed up in a moue of regret.

“Jimmy.” Dean folded his arms across his chest.

“Look, it’s been an insane week.” Jimmy beamed at Dean. “I’m real sorry I didn’t get hold of you guys.”

“Ohh.” Sam hummed in realisation. Then an expression of horror crossed his face. “Oh shit.”

“I’m aware of what happened, Jimmy. Your brother was here.”

Jimmy yanked off his sunglasses. “Cas is here?” He glanced at the house. “He never said.”

“No. Not any more.” Dean glanced grimly at his brother. “And he has been trying to find you for a week.”

“Well see, Nick and I had a leetle disagreement with uhh...something. And I ended up in hospital.” Jimmy’s smile slipped. “Interesting morning that one.”

“How do you feel now?” Sam asked when it seemed obvious Dean wasn’t going to.

“Not too bad. I hitched here from Helena. Didn’t have ID and stuff. Nick’s not still here is he?”

“No. Your brother dealt with him,” Dean said flatly.

“He did? My brother? He couldn’t hurt a fly,” Jimmy scoffed in disbelief.  
“When it involves family, he does.” Dean rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Your gear is still in your room, Jimmy. Shouldn’t take long to pack up. I will sort out your back pay.”

Jimmy opened his mouth, closed it again. “I’m ...fired?”

“I’m sure you will land on your feet.”

“But I …” Jimmy looked imploringly at Sam. “I haven’t got anywhere to go.”

Sam looked at Dean, uncertainly. “Dean.”

Dean just turned his back on the two men and headed for the house.

 

Sam caught up with him in the kitchen.

“Dean, what’s going on? Why are we firing Jimmy?”

“I don’t want him here.”

“Why the hell not. We need a cook now Castiel is …” Sam paused, shuffled his feet.

“Cas wasn’t our cook, Sammy. And Jimmy won’t be anymore either. I don’t want him here, reminding...” Dean’s voice trailed off.

“Reminding you of Cas. Damn it, I’m sorry, Dean.”

“The guy is untrustworthy and more trouble than he is worth.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, holding up his hands in defeat.

“You should have called.”

“I tried...but your phone went straight to message bank.”

Dean blinked. “Oh shit. My phone.” He headed upstairs and found the smashed device in his pack. He fumbled with the SIM and pulled it out. It looked intact. He found an old phone in his office and installed the SIM, turning it on.

It started up slowly, the old machine grinding through the process. He fidgeted, and typed in the PIN. It began beeping as messages started coming through. He groaned when he saw the SMS from Cas. He could almost hear the bewilderment inherent in the words.

Several voice messages came through. He accessed his message bank and listened to all of them. Two from Cas that made his heart clench. He should call him back and tell him … what? He hesitated.

Sam stood in the doorway, watching him. “He called?”

“Twice.” Dean stared down at his phone.

“You going to call him back?”

“Maybe I should just leave it. I mean, he’s heading for New York, right?”

“I guess. That’s where his home is.”

Dean flipped the phone closed and rammed it in his pocket. “Yeah. Where his home is. I’m gonna go get Jimmy his paycheck.”

Sam watched Dean head to his desk and chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip.  

 

Garth opened the door to the bunkhouse, slapping his hat on his knee, knocking the dust off. He headed for his bed, tossed the hat on it and knelt down to pull the metal trunk from under his bed. The door to Cas’ room was open and someone was in there rifling around. He frowned.

“Hey,” Garth blinked. “Cas?”

“Garth, buddy!” Jimmy beamed and stepped toward him to clap him on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“Jimmy? What’re ya doin’ here?” Garth tilted his head.

“Oh, y’know… packing up my stuff, moving on.”

“When did you get back into town?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Really…” Garth’s voice trailed off.

“Oh yeah. And I had a goooood night.” Jimmy’s smile turned a little sly.

“We met your brother, y’know? He came here lookin’ for you when ya didn’t check in.”

“Yep. Dean said.” Jimmy turned back to his packing. “Right before he canned me. Asshole.”

Garth’s jaw clenched. “You had a good night with Amelia Everett didn’t you?”

“Sure did! How did ya know?”

“A guess.”

“Good ol’ Castiel,” Jimmy said, ramming shirts into his pack. “Did he pull the stick out of his ass long enough to get his hands dirty?”

“Jimmy?” Garth’s voice was very quiet.

“Yeah man?” Jimmy glanced up.

“Your brother is a decent man. “

“He’s stuffy and self righteous.” Jimmy’s smile was gone, his eyes glinting a little. “I’m sure he had you all convinced he was the good guy in this.”

“Nick beat the shit outta him, thinkin’ he was you. Because you slept with his girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” Jimmy raised a brow. “Probably the first fight he has ever been in.”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“Castiel is fine isn’t he?”

“Ya should go see him.”

“See who? Cas? Hell no. Don’t want a lecture on how I should be livin’ my life.”  

Garth ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Ya kinda a dick, Jimmy, ya know that?”

“Gotta look out for number one, buddy.” Jimmy hauled his pack over his shoulder. “Take care.” Jimmy strolled for the door.

Garth watched him go, and felt like hell. He had watched the guys throw Cas out on his ass and hadn’t done a damn thing to back him up. That sure as shit wasn’t what friends did.

He pulled out his phone and sent an SMS. 


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phone call

Castiel wearily opened the locks to his apartment and switched on the lights. The place was filled with stale air and silence. It felt … lonely. He dumped the bags in the lounge room and pulled his jacket off, tossing it on the back of the brown leather couch that he rarely lounged on. He went to the french doors and opened them onto the balcony. He stepped out and tipped his face up to the late afternoon sun. It felt weak coming through the haze over the city. He leaned on the balcony and looked down the ten stories to the street below. So many people, so many cars. He pushed back and headed back in, leaving the balcony doors open to air out his small two bedroom space.

He lay in bed later, briefly enjoying the slow sink into the cloud soft mattress. He plugged in his phone and closed his eyes. For the first time since he had left Circle W, and Dean, he slept almost straight away.

 

The ring was loud, dragging him from sleep with intense reluctance. He was face down on his pillow, arms buried underneath. He reached out blindly, knocking the lamp from the bedside table.

“Shit,” he growled. He got his phone near the vicinity of his ear and hit receive.

“Who is this?” It wasn’t his politest greeting, but then the caller had interrupted his sleep.

_“Castiel? It’s Sam.”_

“Who?” His irritability was still cranked up to nine.

_“Sam Winchester.”_

Castiel lapsed into surprised silence, sitting up in bed, running his hands through his hair, sending it into rampant spikes.

 _“Hello?”_ Sam’s voice was uncertain.

“What do you want? _”_ Castiel asked flatly. After all, the last time they had spoken, Sam had thrown him off his property.

_“To apologise.”_

Castiel waited. He could hear Sam clearing his throat.

 _“I want to tell you that I’m sorry. I jumped to the worst possible conclusion because he’s my brother and I wanted to protect him from the person I thought you were. When he got back, he tore me a new one. I haven’t seen him so … so...”_ Sam’s voice trailed off.

“Look. Sam.” Castiel relented, tossed back the covers and stood up. “Don’t worry about it. My brother has this way of screwing things up for people, whether he means to or not. I’m used to it. You aren’t. Don’t sweat it. All is forgiven. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

_“Yes. No… wait.”_

Castiel waited, standing in the middle of his bedroom, hands propped on his hip, the cotton boxers he wore to bed slung low. He glanced at the time. Seven am. He wouldn’t get back to sleep now.

“I’m waiting, Sam.”

_“He wants to call. I see it. I have seen him this torn up over anyone…”_

“He will get over it.”

_“Maybe. But I think you might feel the same about him.”_

Castiel swallowed against the lump that threatened to strangle him. His voice came out rougher than usual. “It doesn’t matter if I do, Sam.”

_“Why not?”_

“Because ...

It was Sam’s turn to be silent. Castiel pressed his fingers into his eye sockets until colour exploded at the pressure.

“Uprooting my life here for a chance with your brother is just insanity, Sam. We haven't exactly known each other long.”

_“So?”_

“So that would be crazy.” Castiel insisted.

_“You lost your job there, right?”_

“Thank you for reminding me.”

_“So get a job in Bozeman. It’s not a bad town. I mean, it’s not New York.”_

“My apartment …”

_“Sub let.”_

Castiel laughed mirthlessly. “You have this all figured it.”

_“I want my brother to be happy. And I think you make him pretty damn happy. I want you both to not be stubborn idiots and see if, maybe, it’s as good as what it might be.”_

“He doesn’t know you are calling, does he?”

_“He would probably kill me. He has this misplaced sense of righteousness that tells him he should not try. He should not speak to you. He should not try to disrupt this perfect life you have for yourself there._

Castiel closed his eyes.  

_“Is it perfect, Castiel? Is he wrong?”_

Castiel cleared his throat.

“Yes. He is wrong.”

_“Think about it. What do you have to lose?”_

“Everything, Sam.” Castiel hung up and tossed the phone on the bed. He lowered himself down to sit on the edge, his hands clenching. "Everything."

 

 


	15. Fifteen

“I’m not really in the mood, Sammy.”

“For the past two weeks, you have been moping around here like a kicked puppy. You are the one who decided not to call him, so suck it up and move the hell on.”

“Bite me.”

“I would, but you look like you haven’t showered in a week.”

Dean opened his mouth, offended. Then closed it again. He smoothed his hand over the considerable beard that had been growing for the past couple of weeks.

“You’re just jealous you can’t grow more than assfluff on that baby face of yours,” he said finally, a faint smile curving his lips.

“Jealous? You look like you have been backpacking around Europe with a bunch of hipsters.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam yanked the file from Dean’s hand and tossed it on the neverending pile. “Come on. We are going for dinner. Out. Wear something other than those workpants.”

“Huh? Why can’t we just stay here?”

“Stop whining.”

Dean stood up with a scowl. “Fine. Geez.”

Sam checked his phone and sent a text with a secretive smirk.

 

Dean leaned back in his seat and groaned as he rubbed his stomach. His plate was so clean he may well have licked it. “That was ridiculously good.”

“New chef.” Sam took a sip of his wine. “The owner said he only came on board yesterday.”

“Good find.” Dean rubbed his newly shaven cheek, the sensation decidedly weird after the bristles. “Didn’t even know you knew a place like this, Sammy.”

“It was ...uhh...recommended to me.”

Dean glanced around the place. “‘Archipelago’. Weird name for a landlocked state.”

“It is meant to evoke longing for the exotic and unknown.” A low, gravelled voice interrupted their conversation.

Sam grinned. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Sam.

Dean had gone quite pale, and turned in his seat to take in the sight of a man in a white chef’s coat, black pants and an uncertain smile.

“Hello, Dean.”

Sam stood up. “I’m just going to...be elsewhere.” He laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed.

Dean was staring down at his bottle of beer. The label was peeling. He glanced up again at Castiel, then back down.

“May I sit?” Castiel asked, gesturing at the seat Sam had just vacated.

Dean nodded once. His eyes met Castiel’s. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel smiled.

“You moved here.” Dean peeled the label completely off the bottle.

“I did.” Castiel folded his hands on the placemat in front of him.

“Why?” He began shredding the damp paper into tiny pieces.

“I should think that was perfectly obvious.”

Dean nodded again, pursing his lips slightly. He stood up suddenly, jerkily. “I need to ...go.” Dean marched out of the restaurant, bypassing Sam where he sat enjoying the evening air at an outside table.

“Dean? What the hell?” Sam stood up, concern etched on his features.

Dean rounded on Sam, his voice like a whip, shoulders rigid. “You knew about this?”

“I … maybe.” Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced away.

“How?” Dean’s jaw was clenched. “How did you know, Sammy?”

“I called him. A few weeks ago.”  
“And what? He decided to just move here on a whim? I call bullshit.”

“I apologised for the way I treated him. And told him you were miserable and ..”

“You did what?” Dean snarled, his hands clenching into fists.

“You were, Dean. Castiel moved here because …” Sam’s voice trailed off, his hands raising and falling.

“I was miserable too.” Castiel’s quiet voice interjected.

Dean whirled on him. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you call?”

“I did. A couple of times. You never called back,” Castiel said simply. “Dean, please listen. I came here because I no longer found New York satisfying. I love cooking, it remains my passion, but the life that goes along with it? Not so much. Gabe offered me a job last time I was here, the night before I flew out. When Sam called me, I made the decision to take the job. And the thought that maybe, just maybe, we could continue what we started.

Dean ran his hands through his hair, and linked his fingers at the back of his head. Castiel approached and met his gaze. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and watching Dean cautiously, he laid his hand on Dean’s chest, just over his heart. He dropped his voice barely above a whisper. “Give us a chance? Please.”

Dean visibly swallowed, and took a heaving breath in. His hands dropped, one of them to cover Castiel’s. The corner of his lips quirked with a smile, his other hand cupped Castiel on the back of the neck and he drew him in. Castiel went willingly, tilted his head and brushed his lips against Dean’s mouth.

With a small sound, Dean sank into the kiss, revelling in Castiel’s taste, the quiet strength of his body and the sudden slumberous need in his bright blue eyes.

A sharp whistle had them breaking apart.

“Hey, Winchester?” Gabe stood at the front door of the restaurant, leaning idly against the frame, his arms crossed and a smile on his face. “Feel like letting go of my chef so he can get to work?”

Dean reluctantly stepped back, though he kept his hand around Castiel’s and only had eyes for him. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Castiel’s smile broadened. “Like ‘yes’ yes?”

Dean nodded, leaned forward and kissed him again, hard and brief. “Yes yes. Can I see you tomorrow? I think we need to talk.”

“Definitely.”

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean?” Sam’s voice was rich with amusement.

“I’m taking a personal day.”

“I think we can swing it.”

Castiel headed back to the restaurant, their hands dropping away. At the door way he drew level with Gabe.

“Nice,” Gabe murmured.

“Shut up.” Castiel elbowed him sharply.

Gabe doubled over and complained. “Ow!”

 

Sam slung his arm over Dean’s shoulder as they headed for the Impala.

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Bonehead.”

“I can accept that.” He ruffled Dean’s hair.

“Argh!” Dean complained, fending off the attack. “Quit it, Bullwinkle.”

“Love you too, Rocky.” 


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of bump and grind. 
> 
> If that's not your thing, you can move along after the first conversation :)

Castiel slid the cup of coffee across the breakfast bench toward Dean and clutched his own with both hands.

“This is a nice place,” Dean observed, glancing around the tidy townhouse.

“Gabe set me up. He rents the other side, knew the owners of this were leaving and wanted to rent the place out.”

“Handy.” Dean sipped his coffee and groaned. “God, I have missed this. Your coffee is seriously the best I have ever tasted.”

“Secret is in the beans.” Castiel smiled at him, studying his lean figure, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, standing in his lounge room, now studying the slate fireplace. Dean lowered himself onto the suede couch, his cup balanced carefully in one hand. He was lost. Completely. The guy was here in his rented house, sitting on borrowed furniture and Castiel was lost.

“Come and sit,” Dean asked softly.

Castiel perched on the couch next to him, his back to the arm, one leg tucked under him. Dean shifted a little to face him.

“You look good first thing in the morning.” Dean’s sharp gaze was a little disconcerting.

“You have seen me first thing in the morning before, and ‘good’ doesn’t really cover that mess,” Castiel said drily. “Getting up at four in the morning frankly sucked.”

“We only do that when we have mustering to be done. The rest of the time we get to sleep in to six am.”

Castiel groaned and shook his head. “Six.”

Dean laughed. “You really are suited to being a chef.”

“I prefer the hours at Archipelago. Kitchen closed by nine thirty during the week, ten thirty on weekends. Some nights in New York, I wouldn’t get home until two in the morning if we had big functions on.”

“Fair enough.” Dean nodded.

Silence fell between the two men for a moment, blue eyes clashing with green. “You paid Jimmy’s hospital bill. I want to pay you back.”

“The Winchester Trust paid the bill.” Dean set down his coffee mug. “He was hurt by one of our employees. As were you.”

“It was his own fault. If he hadn’t been messing around with Meg…”

Dean shrugged. “Then he can offer to pay us back.” He smiled. “But I don’t think the chances of that are likely.”

“I want to apologise for -” He was cut off by Dean leaning forward and laying a finger on his lips.  

“Don’t you dare apologise for your brother again.” Dean scooted a little closer and plucked the coffee cup from Castiel’s hand, plunking it on the table. “In fact, I’m going to institute a rule that he is henceforth not to be mentioned for the rest of the day.”

“Henceforth?” Castiel murmured around the fingers pressed to his mouth. “Big words for a farm boy.”

“Mouthy for a cook.” Dean loomed over him, shifting his hand to press on the arm of the couch beside Castiel, coming up on to one knee. “I know I said I wanted to talk, but honestly, all I want to do is touch you. Kiss you. I barely slept last night knowing you were here.”

Castiel splayed his hands over Dean’s stomach. “Thank god. I thought it was just me.”

Cupping his hand over Castiel’s cheek, Dean leaned down and brushed his lips gently over Castiel’s. With hands that were suddenly a little unsteady, Castiel skimmed his palms around to Dean’s back and tugged him closer. Dean settled easily onto Castiel’s lap, his knees propped either side of his hips. Hunching down into the kiss, Dean sucked Castiel’s lower lip into his mouth and nipped lightly.

Castiel rumbled his approval low in his chest and teased his tongue over Dean’s, his hands sought the hem of Dean’s shirt and skimmed under it, finding hot skin that felt smooth, so so smooth. With a surge of desire, Dean’s hips rocked against his. When Castiel’s shirt was unbuttoned by shaking fingers, and fluttered to the ground, his brain was already turning to mush. He pulled Dean’s shirt off and the two men discovered the play of muscle under smooth skin.

Barely breaking eye contact, they explored each other. What made sharp drawn-in breaths, what wrung sighs, what made each other squirm. Dean’s hands were rough, calloused, creating a frisson that sent shivers up Castiel’s spine. With a sensitive, knowing touch, Castiel could wring his name from Dean’s lips.

With fumbling fingers, he drew Dean’s cock from it’s confines and palmed him. He drew his thumb over the top to gather the leaking precum and teased the little ridge of skin on the underside that had Dean gasping. He stroked from base to tip, twisting his fist at the top, gathering more of his fluid, using it to ease the slight friction. Dean’s eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, groin staticking against Castiel’s.

“Cas…” His voice was hoarse. “I’m gonna…” His face pressed into the cushioned chair back beside Castiel’s head, muffling his cry. White slicks of cum streaked Castiel’s chest as Dean’s breath washed over his neck.

Castiel soothed his hands over Dean’s back as he regained a semblance of control. He propped himself up, eyes sleepy with desire.

“You didn’t...did you?” He rumbled.

Castiel shook his head and smiled. “Plenty of time for that. Now get off me, my legs are going to sleep.”

“Shit. Sorry,” Dean scrambled off, and sorted himself out to do up his jeans. He reached down and pulled Castiel to standing. He trailed his finger through some of the mess on Castiel’s chest, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Nice.”

“I’m going to clean up.” Castiel kissed Dean slow and torturously. When he pulled back, he murmured. “You can make me more coffee.”

 

Dean leaned on the kitchen bench an unconscious smile on his lips as the machine hummed and burred its way toward two more cups of fragrant coffee. When a pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, his hand came up to cover Castiel’s. He leaned back against Castiel’s bare chest.

“Thanks for taking a chance on me, Cas. Not sure if I’m worth it, but I’m gonna try.”

He felt Castiel’s lips against his shoulder, then against the back of his neck. “You’re welcome. And I’m on board so far. But I need my coffee before the next round, cowboy.”

Dean huffed a soft laugh. “Yee ha.” 


	17. Seventeen

They settled into a kind of routine over the past couple of months. Cas had Mondays and Tuesdays off from the restaurant. He would stay out at the ranch. The rest of the time, Dean would get away from the ranch and stay with him at his townhouse.

“So things are going well?” Gabe asked Castiel from over the planners they were going through.

“Huh?” Castiel looked up, pulling the pen he was chewing from out of his mouth.

“You and Dean. Going well?”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah. Really well.”

“Wedding bells?”

The smile faded, and Castiel fidgeted with the pen.

“Cas? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong at all.”

“Wait…” Gabe studied his old friend. “You guys haven’t used the L-word, have you?”  
Cas didn’t reply, just stared at the pages filled with his scribble in front of him.

“Holy shit, you haven’t.” Gabe sat back in his chair. “You two are nauseating around each other. You get the biggest puppy dog eyes, and his go all bright and shiny.”

“Shut up.” Castiel muttered.

“If he hasn’t said it, you should.”

“We are ...taking it slow.”

“Bullshit. The nights when he is over, I turn up the TV extra loud. You two - not quiet.”

Castiel blushed. Hard. He covered his eyes. “God, Gabe. Will you shut up?”

“I have considered getting sound proofing,” Gabe continued, ignoring him. “Sometimes it’s like having my own private porn radio show.”

Castiel thumped his forehead onto the table top. “I hate you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Gabe grinned and tossed an eraser at Castiel. “Come on. I want to look at next week’s menu.”

Castiel sighed and lifted his head. “Okay.”

“After all, I know you wanna get back out to your love shack in the wilderness.”

 

Winter had clenched it’s icy grasp in the Rockies. Wrapped up in as many layers as he could muster, buried in a wool lined coat of Dean’s, Castiel sipped coffee out on the verandah, surveying the results of the first snowfall. It was incredible. Unbelievable. And fucking cold. He shivered, despite his layers.

“Hey.” Dean joined him at the cast iron railing, leaning back on it. With his coffee in one hand, he slid his other across Castiel’s well layered stomach. Castiel leaned into him, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “I can barely feel you under all those layers.”

“Well, it’s fucking cold, cowboy.”

Dean laughed. “Poor warm blooded baby. You will get used to it.” He sighed, dropped a kiss onto Castiel’s temple. “Better get going. I want to take the helicopter up to check the top paddock, see how the stock survived last night.”

“I’m going to put my feet up and be extremely lazy.” Castiel brushed his cold lips against Dean’s.

There was a brief pause as they studied each other. Dean seemed about to say something and changed his mind.

“See ya at lunch.”

“Bye.” Castiel clutched his cooled cup of coffee in his hands as he watched Dean head for the four wheel drives.

 

Castiel stirred the thick stew that bubbled with fragrant herbs and spices scenting the air. Fresh bread was baking in the bread machine. With the ranch hand numbers down to half a dozen, the meals were easier. Tuesday was the ranch cook’s day off, so Castiel took over duties. It was something he enjoyed.

His phone buzzed on the butcher’s block and he reached for it, answering without checking.

“Hello, this is Castiel.”

 _“Cas! It’s Jimmy! Hey.”_ Jimmy’s bright voice was loud down the line.

Castiel slowly set down the wooden spoon. “Hello, Jimmy.”

_“How’s things? I tried your place in New York but the nice lady said your phone was disconnected.”_

“I don’t live there anymore.”

_“What? Really? And you don’t tell me.”_

Castiel leaned back against the sink. “I didn’t know where you were.”

_“I’m in Twin Falls.”_

“Where?”

_“Idaho, brother.”_

“Ah. So, what do you want, Jimmy?”

_“I’ve kind of got myself in a little...trouble.”_

“Jimmy…”

_“It wasn’t my fault!”_

“It never is.”

 _“Look…”_ Jimmy’s voice hardened. _“...I just need two grand.”_

“What did you do?”

_“Nothing.”_

“Jimmy…”

_“Can you loan me the money or not? I will pay you back?”_

“I will call you back.”

_“Cas, come on.”_

“I will call...you...back…” Castiel said between gritted teeth. He hung up.

 

Charlie kissed Castiel on the cheek. “I love when you cook. Dale is pretty good, but damn, it’s like Christmas when you hit the stove. Thank you.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Uhh. Thankyou.”

“Y’know the hands used to eat in the bunkhouse.”

“That’s just unsanitary,” Castiel declared emphatically.

“The cook used to deal with everything up here and bring it down to the bunkhouse at meal times. John, Mary and the two boys ate up here in the formal dining room. Definite division of labour right there.”

“What changed?”

Charlie’s smile faded. “Well, Mister and Missus Winchester died. Hit black ice and their four wheel drive got hit by a road train. Dean was ...hmm, twenty six? He took over things here. Turned the place into a massive operation the past ten years or so. I think they have a couple ranches now. Sam mostly heads up the North Dakota property. His girlfriend, Ruby, is the real manager, but he pretends he knows what he is doing. Bobby Singer, he’s kind of like their uncle, he runs the north Montana property.” The smile returned by the end. “Dean put in the big tables out there. The heating for winter. The shutters. The barbeque. We used to cycle through hands every couple of years. I came on six years ago, Garth five and Adam three.”

“He wanted to build his family again,” Castiel said softly.

Charlie reached out and curved her hand over Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m glad you are here. He’s happy. He was sad for so long. Family is what you build for yourself, y’know?”

“Thanks...thanks, Charlie.”

Charlie took her bowl of stew over potato mash, and a chunk of hot bread out to the verandah, the last of the hands to come through. He spooned a decent scoop over the creamy mashed potatoes and set it aside for Dean. The second bowl he prepped for himself.

“Seven hells, that was fucking cold.” Dean’s rasping voice almost echoed in the confines of the kitchen. “Sorry I took so long. The shelter had collapsed. We propped it up but we will have to head back tomorrow as long as it doesn’t snow tonight.”   

Castiel mustered up a smile and when Dean approached, he slid his hands through the open confines of Dean’s jacket and pressed himself full length against Dean’s body. Dean rumbled his approval and clutched Castiel closer. “You are so warm,” he murmured against Castiel’s neck.

Castiel let Dean borrow his warmth for a while. “Dean? I have to go to Twin Falls.”

Dean reared back in surprise and frowned at him. “What? Why?”

“I want to see Jimmy. He has been arrested.” Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s chest to interrupt the expletive Dean was clearly planning on uttering. “I haven’t seen or heard from him in months.”

Dean curved his hand around Castiel’s neck and studied his face intently. “What?”

“I’m not going to repeat what I said, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw flexed and he stepped back, dropping his hand. Castiel felt the cold coil around his heart..

“Why?”

“He’s my brother. I can’t just leave him.”  
‘He’s using you, Cas.” Dean tucked his hands into his pockets, his green eyes sparking in the low light of the kitchen.

“Not everyone has your family, Dean.”

“You are my family too, damn it.”

Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed. “I’m all Jimmy has in the world.”  
“And he plays on your knowledge of that, Cas.”

“I will be back Thursday.”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. “Sure.”

“Are we fighting over this?” Castiel asked softly.

Dean frowned. “Little bit. Let’s just have dinner with everyone. We can talk about it later.”

“Sure.” Castiel handed Dean his dinner. “I will be out in a bit.”

 

Later that night, Castiel laid on his side, curled under the encompassing warmth of the thick quilts on Dean’s bed. Dean was in the bathroom, cleaning his teeth. He heard him finish up, turn off the light. There was a brief chill as Dean slid beneath the covers, then Dean slid over, curved his body around Castiel’s and wrapped his arm around his chest. A kiss was pressed to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I’m an ass.” Dean’s voice was barely above a murmur.

Castiel shifted in Dean’s embrace and turned to face him. Their legs tangled. Dean’s face was barely more than a shadow, but Castiel felt the intensity of his gaze. He drew his hand up and touched Dean on the face.

“Yeah, you are. But you are my ass.”

Dean’s voice was rich with sudden amusement. “Your ass?”

Castiel flushed. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice gentled. “Yeah, I know. And you’re my ass too.”

Castiel kissed Dean. “Yeah. I am.”

Warmth enveloped Castiel and he drifted to sleep, wishing he could muster the courage to tell Dean he was totally, completely and utterly love with him.


	18. Eighteen

As the late morning sunshine sparkled off the snow, Castiel got out of the four wheel drive Dean had insisted he drive and stepped out onto the icy footpath. His booted feet crunched as he headed up the walk toward the police station. He huddled into Dean’s coat as a whip of wind swirled past as he opened the door.

The place had a quiet hum of activity as he approached the front desk. The officer looked up with a smile, which dimmed and grew a little concerned as she studied Castiel’s features.

“Hello. My name is Castiel Novak. I believe you have my brother Jimmy, uhh, James Novak in custody? I have arranged to pay his bail..”

She looked instantly relieved. “Ah. Yes. Do you have identification?”

Castiel yanked off a glove and pulled out his wallet. He handed over his driver’s licence. She studied it and signed him in. She picked up her phone.

“Mister Novak’s brother is here to see him.” She listened to the other end, nodded. “Alright, thankyou.” She hung up.

Castiel put his wallet back into his pocket and waited.

“They will escort you down to the cells.”

“What was he arrested for?”

The officer went silent. She fidgeted with a pen in her hand. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

Castiel sighed. “Understood.”

 

“Castiel.” Jimmy stood at the bars, his arms crossed in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured I should see where my money was going.”

“It’s just bail! You will get it back!”

“‘Just bail’. Jimmy, most folks never get to a point in their lives where that sentence is even a thing. You treat getting bail as a matter of course. Can’t you see how terrible this is?”

“I might be a captive audience, Cas, but I’m not interested in hearing this lecture once again. Have you paid it yet? I want out.”

“Yes. The paperwork will be here soon for your release. When is your court date?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Next week sometime.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you think you should know a little more specifically.”

“I don’t sweat the details, Cas. You shouldn’t either.”

“Why were you arrested, Jimmy?”

“I told you, it was a mistake. I didn’t do anything.”

“Why were you arrested?”

“I got caught with a small amount of coke on me, okay?”

Castiel stilled. “When did you start doing drugs, Jimmy?”

“Get off your damn high horse, Cas, before you fall off.” Jimmy paced the interior of the cell.

“You’re doing drugs, Jimmy. I’m worried about you.”

“Worry about yourself. How did you even get here so fast anyway? If you aren’t in New York, where are you?”

“Bozeman.”

“What?” Jimmy frowned. “What are you still doing in that hole of a town?”

“Living there. Working there.”

“Why did you decide to go to that place though?”

“My boyfriend is…”

“Holey Sheet. You got yourself a real life cowboy, huh? Who’d have thought my rigid little brother enjoys being boned by - ”

“Jimmy,” Castiel snapped. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“What’s his name?” Jimmy smirked.

“Dean.”

“Dean? You mean Dean Winchester?” Jimmy laughed. “That son of a bitch that fired me? Nice, Cas. Real nice.”

A cop interrupted their discussion with the cell keys. “Paperwork for the bail payment has come through. You are free to go.” He handed Jimmy the stuffed yellow envelope he was carrying. “Don’t forget to show up to your court date.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jimmy said, sarcasm dripping from his acid tongue. He stepped out of the cell.

“We need to continue this discussion, Jimmy.”

“Whatever.” Jimmy scowled and shrugged. “ I need to get the gear they snagged off me at booking. See you out front.”   

 

Waiting for Jimmy near his car, he took a moment to message Dean.

**_He’s out. Got arrested on minor drug charge._ **

A few moments later, Dean replied.

_Damn. Where are you staying tonight?_

**_Hampton Inn._ **

_Where is Jimmy now?_

**_I’m going to give him a ride to wherever he is staying. Worth a shot, right?_ **

_He’s your brother, Cas. Just be careful, okay?_

**_Like making a souffle._ **

_What?_

Castiel laughed. He could just imagine the perplexed look on Dean’s face.

_**Don’t worry. Too long to explain. See you tomorrow.** _

_Drive careful. Bring my chef back safe._

Castiel slipped the phone back into his pocket and glanced up at the door of the station as Jimmy sauntered out.

“I’m starving,” his brother declared. “You’re buying. I’m skint.”

Castiel silently got behind the driver’s seat. Jimmy hopped up beside him. They drove in silence until Castiel pulled into the parking lot of an Arby’s.

 

Jimmy chewed his way through a huge burger.

Castiel sat with only a bottle of water in front of him, sipping from it periodically.

“When is your court date?” Castiel broke the silence between them.

“Next Thursday. Should be simple. In and out. Had barely anything on me. Might get some court mandated therapy, community service, that kind of thing.” Jimmy shrugged.

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“I will figure something out.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Staying with a friend,” Jimmy said evasively, sucking up the remnants of his soda.

“Was this the friend who gave you the cocaine?”

“Give me a break, Cas.”

“Drug addictions are not something I want to give you a break about, Jimmy.”

“I’m not addicted, asshole,” Jimmy snarled, his arms folding defensively over his chest. “I’m just having some fun. But you don’t know what that is, do you? Have you ever had fun in your whole life?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it? You were the good son. Practically perfect in every way. Cruised your way through high school, culinary school, got a job right out.”

“I worked hard for all that,” Castiel protested. “And I did plenty that Mum and Dad didn’t approve of.”

“Bullshit.”

“When they discovered I was gay, they didn’t talk to me for a year.”

Jimmy frowned. “What?”

“You were in Mexico. It was right after senior year. Mum caught me making out with Brad Nolan.”

“Brad Nolan is gay?” Jimmy’s eyes opened wide. “Well that explained some things in the locker room. Caught the guy checking out my junk a couple times.

Castiel huffed a soft laugh.

“I guess you let him check out your junk, huh, Cas?”

“Never got that far.” Cas rubbed the back of his neck.

Jimmy rubbed his forearm with an unsteady hand. “Guess they wouldn’t be too impressed by either of us, huh?”

Castiel shrugged. “I guess.”

“When did you last talk to them?”

“A few months ago. Told them I was moving to Bozeman.” Castiel shook his head. “I think they were secretly relieved.”

Jimmy grimaced.  “So you didn’t tell them about this?”

“I haven’t told them about any of it. They still think you are travelling.”

Jimmy’s bloodshot gaze met his. “Thanks, Cas. Really.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jimmy ran his hand through his hair. “Right. I gotta hit the head.”

“I’ll wait here.” Castiel uncapped his water.

Several minutes later, Castiel checked his watch. He frowned. How long was Jimmy going to be? He stood up and headed for the bathroom.

All the doors hung open, no one at the urinal. Castiel hurried back to the hallway. He stared in disbelief at the staff only door at the other end of the corridor and rubbed the heel of his hand against his temple.

Jimmy was gone.


	19. Nineteen

Castiel tried calling Jimmy twice, but both times went through to message bank. His message the first time involved him yelling at Jimmy. He drove around for a couple of hours, trying to spot his brother. By midafternoon, he gave up and headed for the inn.

 

The place was quaint. Warm and inviting. The bed was comfortable, he was already testing it out, lying on his back while he stared at the ceiling. His brain was skimming through the events of the day, frustrating over Jimmy.

Then he considered Dean. The beautiful, kind, sexy man waiting for him back home. He should just tell him how he really felt. It had only been a couple of months though. The sex was incredible. The mornings in bed when he could convince Dean not to be up at six. The simple things that Dean would do  - giving him the coat, making him take the four wheel drive, refilling coffee cups without being asked to, the foot massage after he had done a twelve hour shift for a wedding function. It all added up.

His eyes closed.

 

Castiel awoke with a snort and peered at the clock. It was six. He must have been out for a couple of hours. He levered himself up off the bed with a yawn and tried to chase away the cobweb of sleep. His stomach growled.

He grabbed his wallet and various keys, tucking them into his pocket. He remembered a restaurant a block down. The night was chilly, but with Dean’s coat he should be alright for a brisk walk.

 

The food was adequate. It filled a hole, at least. Castiel ordered a glass of wine with it and checked his phone. Nothing from Dean or Jimmy. He considered messaging both but decided that was just ridiculous. If they wanted to talk to him, they would have.

He stepped out into the icy cold and burying his hands deep in the pockets of the coat, he headed back to the inn. As he entered the carpark of the hotel, he yawned again.

The hit came from nowhere.

“I want my money, Jimmy.” The face that loomed out of the dark was terrifying. Scarred and foul breathed, a huge fist was wrapped into the fabric of his shirt.

Castiel blinked dazedly. “I’m not...Jimmy.”

A punch smashed pain through his skull.

He didn’t hear the creak of a car door opening, shortly followed by the grunt of his attacker as he was yanked out of sight. Cas lay in the dirt, his head ringing until he vaguely heard the sound of a fight. Fists meeting flesh, the grunts as two men struggled.

Castiel levered himself up onto his elbow and saw a man who looked a lot like Dean beating the hell out of the guy now virtually unconscious on the bitumen.

“Dean?” he rasped.

There was a hesitation, then his saviour let go of his attacker. Castiel blinked, trying to clear his vision. The guy who looked like Dean approached, knelt down and smoothed the back of his knuckles over Castiel’s face.

“I told you to be careful,” Dean’s familiar voice was gentle despite the rapidness of his breath. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah, babe, it’s me.” Dean put his arm under Castiel’s shoulders and tugged him upright. “You think you can stand?”

Castiel got up unsteadily, wavering slightly. He pressed his forehead against Dean’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “Getting punched really hurts,” he murmured.

“Yeah. Yeah it does.” Dean’s arms came around him, safe and warm.

“You’re here.” Castiel frowned and pulled back a little. “Why are you here?”

Dean pursed his lips slightly, before muttering awkwardly. “I don’t know. I just felt like I needed to be here. So who was your friend?”

Castiel blinked and turned his head to look at the guy who had jumped him. “I think he is Jimmy’s dealer.” He realised someone else was talking and stared past Dean’s shoulder to see Garth talking with his customary drawl on the phone.

“You betchya. We are waitin’ right out front. Got the cattle all hogtied and waitin’ for ya.”

“You bought Garth with you?” Castiel met Dean’s eyes.

“Uh huh.” Dean didn’t elaborate.

Castiel wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and held tight. “Thank you,” he murmured against the skin of Dean’s neck.

“Hey, lovebirds. Five-oh is here.” Garth called out to them.

 

The next hour had the guy arrested, their statements taken in Castiel’s room by two cops. Garth had given his witness statement and was now down organising a room. It was near eleven by the time Dean and Castiel were left alone, curled up on the bed together. Dean had his arm wrapped around Castiel’s chest, holding him close.

Castiel’s face was already coming up in bruises. Sleepily, he linked his fingers with Dean. He felt warm, protected, comforted. And completely, utterly…

“I love you, Cas,” Dean murmured, his arms tightening. 


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some good old fashioned grab-the-headboard sex!
> 
> PWP

“What?” Castiel stiffened in Dean’s arms. He wriggled around until he could look at his face.

Dean had an uncertain smile on his face. He was barely visible in the low light from the window.

“I love you,” Dean repeated firmly.

Castiel reached up and touched Dean’s cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of his upper lip. His heart was thudding so loud it felt like it would crash out of his chest.

“Say something, Cas. You’re leavin’ me hanging here.” Dean propped himself up on his elbow, staring down at Castiel’s face.

Castiel tried to find his voice and when it came, he found it thick with emotion. “I love you with every part of who I am, Dean.” He cupped his hands over Dean’s neck and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Dean hummed, sliding his leg between Castiel’s and sinking into his embrace.

“Thank god,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s lips, before nibbling on them; sucking the bottom lip into his mouth and sliding his groin against Cas.

Castiel skimmed his hands down Dean’s spine, slid over the soft cotton pants covering his butt and yanked him harder against him. “I need you,” he gasped against Dean’s neck, where he trailed kisses. He rocked his hips up against Dean, letting him feel his erection.

“God, Cas.” Dean smoothed his hand down Castiel’s thigh, hooking his fingers into the back of his knee and tugging upward. Castiel curled his leg around Dean’s hip. The response was immediate as Dean rocked against him.

Castiel shuddered and arched as Dean licked one of his nipples. When he kissed and tasted his way down Castiel’s chest and abdomen, Castiel drove his fingers into Dean’s hair. Toying with the waistband of Castiel’s pyjamas, Dean slid the fabric slowly down his hips, kissing the smooth skin over his hipbones.

Castiel lifted his hips so his sleep pants could be stripped off. Dean shoved his off and they fell beside the bed. He leaned across to the bedside table beside him and plucked the bottle from the depths of his shave bag.

“I like a man who comes prepared.” Castiel trailed his fingers down Dean’s chest.        

Dean grinned, unsnapping the lid. “I like a man who comes.”

Castiel flushed. “Smart mouth.”

“I should put it to good use then.” Dean crouched beside him, palmed Castiel’s erect cock and coiled his tongue over the tip. For a heartstopping moment he met Castiel’s eyes, smiled and engulfed his length into the hot, wet confines of his mouth. Castiel closed his eyes, tipped his head back and moaned.

“Dean…”

His eyes snapped open when he felt Dean’s fingertip press gently against his ass. When Dean applied pressure to his cock with his tongue, and then sucked as he withdrew, Castiel nearly lifted off the bed. When he could breathe again, Dean’s finger was inserted. He bit his lower lip when Dean licked the underside of his cock and slowly thrust his finger inside him. Castiel’s hips rolled into the action, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Ready for a second finger, Cas?” Dean asked, his voice smokey and dark.

“Yes...yes,” Castiel moaned his reply.

“That’s my guy,” Dean pressed a kiss to his abdomen, as a second finger joined the first. Castiel squirmed. “You look incredible.”

“If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to cum,” Castiel muttered, pressing thumb and forefinger to his eyes.

“Nah uh.” Dean slowly thrust his fingers in and out, then a third finger slipped in.

“Fuck...Dean.” Castiel’s hand slammed back down on the bed.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Shit…”

Dean slid his fingers out of Castiel and coated his cock with lube. He settled himself between Castiel’s thighs, and skimmed up his body. The kiss he brushed over Castiel’s lips was surprisingly tender.

“Love you.”

Castiel smiled, shifting so that his legs bracketed Dean’s thighs. “Love you too.”

Dean kissed him fiercely again, reached down between them and positioning his cock, he slid slowly into Castiel.

“Cas…” He murmured.

“I got you.” Castiel wrapped his arms around his lover. “I have you.”

When Dean started to thrust, Castiel clutched at Dean’s back. Small sounds spilled from his lips that Dean caught in his mouth when he fitted his mouth to Castiel’s. Dean’s freckled skin flushed, as his hips rolled, twisted, thrust over and over.

“Harder,” Castiel murmured. “Faster.”

Dean muttered something unintelligible, his hips stuttering. He reached down, cupped his hand around Castiel’s cock and squeezed gently.

“Oh shit..Dean…” Castiel gasped and wrapped his hand around Dean’s wrist. He didn’t stop though. When he came, his back arched, his heel driving into the back of Dean’s thigh. He clenched down around Dean’s cock.

“Fuck…” Dean moaned, pressed his face into Castiel’s neck as he came. He lay, gasping for air on Castiel’s solid chest. Sweat and slick cum stuck them together as he collapsed. Castiel’s legs slid bonelessly to the bed. With a wince, he felt Dean slide out of him. Driving back tomorrow was going to suck. He smiled faintly. Worth it.

“No falling asleep.” Castiel prodded Dean. “I can’t breath, assbutt.”

“Sorry.” Dean groaned as he shifted to the side.

“I’m gonna clean up. Be right back.” He ignored Dean’s protest.

A few minutes later, he returned, slipped his pants back on. He lay the warm, damp cloth over Dean’s abdomen. Dean watched him from slumberous eyes as he swiped away the sweat and other remnants of their lovemaking. He tossed the towel back toward the bathroom, slid in next to Dean, and settled into his embrace.

“Assbutt? Really?”

Castiel smiled. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

“Mmm.” 


	21. Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this chapter was so delayed.   
> I have just stared back at work and it took me longer to write with all the other stuff scrambling for attention in my brain. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience.

Castiel picked up his phone. “Hello? Castiel speaking.”

_“Is that Mister Novak? Castiel Novak?”_

“Yes. Who is this?”

_“My name is Doctor Kremeniuk. University of Washington Medical Centre. We are in Seattle.”_

“Right…” Castiel was wary. He saw Dean glance up from where he was chopping potatoes, helping Castiel out with dinner prep.

_“We have a James Novak here. I’m afraid he overdosed on heroine and is in our care.”_

“What?” Castiel gripped the edge of the butcher’s block. Dean set down his knife and came around the side of the table. He laid his hand on Castiel’s arm. Castiel gripped his hand.

_“I’m sorry to tell you like this. But he has you as his next of kin.”_

“Will he...is he?” He mouthed the word ‘Jimmy’ at Dean. Dean frowned.

_“We are not certain of his prognosis at this point in time. He has done a lot of damage to his body.”_

“What happened?”

Dean seemed to understand what was going on now and wrapped his arm around Castiel.

_“He was found unconscious in the house he was staying in. We identified him an hour ago from police records. An antitoxin has been given and we are waiting for it to work.”_

“Alright.” Castiel couldn’t keep a sudden well of emotion choking him. “I will get there as soon as I can.”

 _“If you need a direct line to me, you can contact me on this number.”_ She recited a mobile.

“Thank you, Doctor Kremeniuk.” Castiel hung up, put the phone on the table and ran his hands through his hair.

“Hey, what’s happened to Jimmy?” Dean asked gently.

“He’s in hospital in Seattle.” Castiel struggled to maintain his equanimity. “He OD’d on heroine.”

“Geez.” Dean rubbed his hand down Castiel’s back. “What do you want to do?”

“Go out there. See him.”

“Okay. We can get a flight out in the morning.”

Castiel glanced at Dean. “You don’t have to come. I know you don’t like him.”

“No. I don’t.” Dean put his fingers through the loops on Castiel’s jeans and tugged him closer. “But I like you. A lot.  And you will not face this alone.” Dean rested his forehead on Castiel’s.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel kissed Dean briefly. “Come on, let’s finish dinner. The hoards will be here soon.”

“You got it.”

Castiel stood at the foot of Jimmy’s hospital bed, staring at the variety of machines keeping him alive. Dean stood back a pace, his hands in his pockets, just watching.

“He doesn’t look like Jimmy.”

It was true. This Jimmy had sunken, bruised eyes. His cheekbones stood out in stark relief, even his hands looked skeletal.

“How long do you think he has been on the hard stuff?” Dean asked.

“God knows. He was on cocaine when he ditched me in Idaho.” Castiel sat down on the side of the bed, and wrapped his hand over Jimmy’s. “I need to call my parents.”

“I’m right here.” Dean kissed Castiel on the top of his head.

Castiel pulled out his phone. “I had better go outside or...into the waiting room. I don’t want to …” He stared at the variety of machines that beeped and flashed incomprehensible numbers at him.

“Come on. There is a waiting room just down the hall.” Dean took Castiel’s hand.

“Hello, Mother. It’s Castiel.”

 _“Cas?...Castiel?”_ His mother sounded a little surprised.

“Yes. Is Dad there too? I have something serious I need to tell you both.”

_“Yes, he is in his office. Castiel, what is wrong?”_

“Can he get on the line as well?”

_“Castiel, you are scaring me.”_

Castiel closed his eyes and leaned against Dean. “Please, Mother. Just get Dad.”

 _“Castiel? Why are you calling?”_ His father’s voice was abrupt as ever.

“It’s Jimmy. A hospital in Seattle contacted me. He’s very ill.”

“ _Oh...Jimmy…_ ” He heard his mother breathe.

His father was more practical. _“What do you mean 'ill'? A bad flu...a car accident?”_

“He overdosed on heroine.”

 _“What?”_ His mother’s voice rose in a shriek.   

“ _Don’t be ridiculous, Castiel._ ” His father was emphatic. _“James doesn’t do drugs.”_

“Yeah, Dad. He does.” Castiel replied flatly.

 _“You knew about this?”_ Aleksandr Novak demanded, his voice harsh.

“Dad, listen to me. Jimmy is in trouble. He needs you.”

_“We don’t have time, Castiel.”_

“He needs you. This might kill him. You need to make the damn time.”

 _“We can be there tomorrow.”_ Helena Novak interrupted emphatically.

“Lena!” Aleksander snapped.

 _“We will discuss this later, Alek.”_ His mother was no less stern. _“Castiel, I will call you when we arrive in Seattle.”_

“Okay.” Castiel hit ‘end’. He turned to met Dean’s concerned gaze. “They are coming here. They are actually coming here.”

“You did ask them?”

“I know. I just wasn't certain they would come.” Castiel looked despondent as Dean folded him into his arms.

Castiel fidgeted beside Jimmy’s bed. According to the nurse, his brother had woken briefly during the night, but so far, he had been asleep since he had arrived. His parents were on their way. About to see Jimmy. And him. And Dean.

His boyfriend was currently dozing in the chair near the window, long legs crossed at booted ankles, hands linked on his stomach. Castiel smiled fondly, his heart warm.

Despite his readiness, he was not prepared for the Novak onslaught. He heard the sharp ring of footsteps, then the door of the room opening. His elegant, exquisitely groomed mother was wringing her hands, an expression of fear and sorrow on her face; his father, sleek and arrogant, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.

“Jimmy…” Helena whimpered and took several steps to the bed.

“Mother.” Castiel jerked to his feet. “Father.”

Dean woke, scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles. He came to his feet a little slower. Helena put her hand over Jimmy’s and perched on the side of the bed. Aleksandr entered slower, closing the door to the hospital room, his glance darting from bed, to Castiel, then finally to Dean with a look of disapproval.

“Castiel.” His father held out his hand to his son. Castiel hesitantly reached out and grasped his father’s hand.

He dropped his hand.

“Dad, this is Dean Winchester. My partner.” Castiel gestured at Dean. Dean stepped forward and held out his hand. “Dean, this is Aleksandr Novak, and my mother, Helena.”

Helena studied Dean, her expression enigmatic. Aleksandr hesitated before shaking Dean’s hand. “Mister Winchester.”

“Sir.” Dean gripped the other man’s hand.

There was much family resemblance between father and sons. Same dark hair, same angular features, same compact, lean body. But they had inherited their mother’s bright blue eyes and sensual mouths.  

Dean studied the unsettled expression on Novak Snr’s face. It was clear he had not expected to be meeting his son’s boyfriend. Dean leaned over and murmured quietly to Castiel, “I am going to get coffee. Do you want one?”

“Yes. Mother? Father? Would you like tea or coffee?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Aleksandr intoned somberly. Helena just shook her head.

There was a pause until Dean left the room, he felt it acutely, along with the steady grey stare of Castiel’s father. It made the back of his neck prickle.


	22. Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disagreement and understandings.

“I was unaware you were bringing your ...uhh…” Aleksandr fumbled.

“My boyfriend, Father,” Castiel helpfully supplied, the faintest edge to his voice.

“Yes, well…” Aleksandr cleared his throat.

“He looks nice,” Helena said gently. “What does he do?”

“Dean owns and runs three ranches with his brother in Montana and North Dakota.”

He couldn’t miss the way his father’s brows rose at that. Aleksandr Novak might not approve of, nor understand, his son’s sexual orientation, but he understood money very well.

“And you are happy?” Helena lifted her gaze from Jimmy, long enough to ask the question.

“Yes. Yes, I am. We make each other happy.”

“Good.” Helena smiled at him, before it faded as she turned back to her unconscious offspring. “Do you know it happened, Castiel?”

Castiel returned to his seat on the other side of the bed. “Not the specifics. He was arrested a few months ago in Idaho with a small amount of cocaine. I haven’t heard from him since then. The hospital contacted me through his police record, once they identified him.”

“We will get him into a program,” Aleksandr said flatly. “This kind of behaviour is not to be tolerated.”

Castiel’s chin tilted. “He has to want to get help, Dad.”

“He won’t get a choice. If you hadn’t kept this from us, we would have intervened much earlier.” His father’s voice was gruff with anger.

“Probably,” Castiel agreed, sadness and guilt clutching at his heart. “But he didn’t want you to know.”

“That is irresponsible, Castiel!” Aleksandr growled. “What if he had died?”

“Alek!” Helena spoke sharply. “It is not Castiel’s fault. It has been a long time since our boys have been children. They are responsible for their own decisions. Jimmy chose to experiment with drugs. He chose. Not Castiel.” Helena studied Castiel with a frown. “How often have you bailed him out, Castiel?”

“I..uhh..” Castiel fidgeted with the blankets covering his brother.

“A dozen times I am aware of. He was also assaulted twice by people mistaking him for Jimmy.” Dean re-entered the room and put down the paper cup holder with four cups of coffee. He rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Castiel has given Jimmy a lot of money out of his savings - whether for bailing him out of jail or giving him a ‘loan’.” He said the last scornfully.

“Dean…” Castiel protested quietly.

“No. This isn’t fair.” Dean looked down at Cas, his eyes blazing green fire. “Cas is an incredible guy. Jimmy used to work for me, and went missing. As soon as he found out, Cas came out to the ranch to find out what happened to him. He lost his damn job over it.”

Aleksandr frowned. “Wait a second, young man.”

“No.” Dean shook his head emphatically. “I won’t stand here and allow you to treat Cas like this when he has done nothing but stand by his brother and try to keep him out of trouble the best way he can, even though it keeps getting thrown back in his face.”

Helena rose to her feet, her steady blue eyes regarding Dean a little clearer. She considered him with a calm that contrasted with her hot tempered husband.

“Bah!” Aleksandr snarled, flapping his hands at Dean. “You are an outsider, Winchester. You know nothing of this family.”

“Dean is my best friend, Dad. He knows me better than anyone, and he speaks the truth about what happened Jimmy.” Castiel stood then, finding his voice. “I’m going to leave, arguing like this isn’t going to fix Jimmy.” He paused, stared down at his trembling hands. How quickly could his father make him feel like he was twelve again. “I’m sorry. I know I should have helped him more. He just ..” He shrugged helplessly. “He didn’t want help.”

Dean picked up his jacket, tossed over the back of the chair he had been sleeping in, and putting both hands on Castiel’s shoulders, pushed him gently to the door. Dean glanced back at Aleksandr and Helena. Castiel’s father had paced to the window and was staring out with rigid shoulders. Helena was watching Castiel leave with an expression of regret and the glimmer of tears.  

Now he could see where Castiel got his calm from, and that temper that once in a while flashed to the surface, but was just as swiftly forgotten. Their drive back to the hotel was silent, with Castiel staring out of his window. Dean reached across and touched his thigh. Without looking at him, Castiel linked his fingers with Dean’s.

The following day, Castiel returned with Dean to the hospital, before they were due to fly out back to Montana. According to the doctor, Jimmy was awake and had been for a while. When he entered the room, Helena was there, fussing over blankets and arranging flowers on the window sill. Jimmy was sitting up, leaning back against a mountain of pillows, the oxygen mask he had worn the last couple of times Castiel had seen him was packed away.

“Hello, Mother. Where’s Dad?” Castiel asked, once greetings were exchanged.

“He is arranging transport home for Jimmy.”

Castiel nodded and turned to Jimmy. “Hey.”

Jimmy was toying with the edge of his blanket, a faint flush high on his pale cheek. “Heya, Cas.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Jimmy shrugged. “Guess I deserve it.”

“Jimmy, no.” Castiel shook his head. “No one deserves this. Are you going home with Mom and Dad?”

“Yeah.” Jimmy grimaced. “I have screwed up things big time. Did a lot of thinking. I want to get my shit together.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas. I screwed things up for you so bad.”

“No you didn’t, Jimmy. Sure, it could have been better…” Castiel smiled wryly. “But I wouldn’t have come to Montana otherwise.”

“Things going well with you and Dean then?” Jimmy looked around, a little blearily. “Where is he?”

“He dropped me off. He is finding a parking space.”

“I like him, Cas. He’s not a dick. He was right to fire me.”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s past is past.”

“Here, dear, drink some more water.” Helena pressed the cup on Jimmy.

He wrinkled his nose. “Mother…” he complained.

“The doctor says you were severely dehydrated. You will drink this and like it, young man.”

Castiel smirked.

Jimmy took the cup and drained it.

Dean opened the door and stepped into the room. “Hello. Jimmy. Mrs Novak.”

“Dean.” Helena smiled at the new arrival.

JImmy remained silent, merely nodded his greeting, staring at the sheet shamefaced. Dean stepped up behind Castiel, where he had taken the seat beside Jimmy’s bed, and laid his hands on his shoulders. The comforting squeeze had Castiel reaching up and touching Dean’s hand in return.

Castiel caught Helena watching them, and met her gaze steadily. She smiled at him. He shifted uncertainly in his chair.

“Castiel, dear? Could you get some more water for Jimmy, please?” Helena handed him the plastic jug.

Castiel stood up and nodded, sharing a glance with Dean. Dean just shrugged. When Castiel was out of the room, Helena gestured at his vacated seat. As silently bid, Dean sat.

“I want to begin by apologising for my husband, and myself. He was out of line and I was so upset, I didn’t interfere.” Helena regarded Dean steadily. “Aleksandr is a good man, but his temper...ah his temper.” She shook her head. “I suppose you know that he did not have a good relationship with Castiel.”

“When Cas told him he was gay. Yes.” Dean’s jaw clenched.

“He did not accept it. He was angry. He did not understand. And he made it so Castiel felt more comfortable living away from us. I confess, for a time, I did not deal with it either. At first I thought we had done something wrong. Done something during his upbringing.” Those tears sprang to those big eyes again. “But I did some reading. Asked questions. And I missed my boy.” She reached out to Dean over the blanket. Jimmy watched on, silent. “He’s one of the two beings most precious to me in this world, and I don’t know if he will ever forgive the way we treated him in our ignorance. We have failed much as parents, and I wish to try to make amends.”

Dean stared at the woman’s hand where it lay on the blanket. He reached out. “That is up to him, Mrs Novak.”

“Call me Lena, please? I just want to ask you to look after him. That’s all. I think you are a good man. You must be if Castiel loves you. And he does. I can tell.”

“And I love him.”

“Good.” Helena squeezed his hand, then let go, a little reluctantly.

Castiel came in, balancing the water, and studied the scene.  Helena rose and took the water from him. She touched his cheek with cold fingertips. Castiel didn’t draw back, but he was surprised.

“I know you have to leave now. But will you stay in touch once in a while?” She implored.

Castiel merely nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Castiel glanced quizzically at Dean. His boyfriend just gave a good natured grin, which only served to confuse him.

When he left, he was surprised when his mother pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. And Dean didn’t seem taken aback.

They had been home a few days. On his day off, Dean had come into Bozeman to take care of some business. He now sat on the couch, his bare feet propped on the coffee table. He had a car magazine in hand and his new glasses perched on his nose. He had protested against getting them, but when Castiel had pointed out that he was squinting when reading and watching TV, Dean had reluctantly agreed to get his eyes tested.

Castiel secretly found the glasses extremely sexy.

Castiel was in the kitchen, prepping dinner. He was mixing up hamburger mince with his bare hands, blending spices, herbs and other sauces. He paused and studied Dean. Even though winter was in full force, the heating was pretty good in the townhouse. Dean wore loose cotton pants and a t-shirt with the Captain America shield on the front. Castiel smiled, his heart bursting with warmth.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean turned a page in the magazine.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yep.”

Castiel paused, and frowned. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yep.” Dean turned another page.

“Oh. Okay. That’s good.” Castiel turned to the sink, turned on the tap and ran his revolting hands under the water. A little disappointed coiled in his chest. Sure. The question had been sudden, but he had been thinking about it for a while. He just expected a little more enthusiasm. When he turned to grab a towel, Dean was standing behind him.

For a pretty big guy, Dean could move quietly. Castiel opened his mouth to speak. Dean put his forefinger on his lips, stilling his words.

“Cas. I love you.” Dean replied his finger with his lips for a brief kiss. “Becoming your husband would be the second best thing to ever happen to me.”

“The first thing had better be pretty damn amazing.” Castiel’s smile was like sunshine.

“It was.” Dean slid his arms around Castiel’s back. “It was the day I met you.”

“You romantic.” Castiel smoothed his palms over Dean’s chest.

“Don’t tell Sammy.”

“Blackmail material.”

“Bastard.”

“I know.”


	23. Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your lovely encouragement. Now I'm back at work, I'm afraid my writing schedule is severely curtailed. 
> 
> I might start a new fic, I'm not sure. 
> 
> Just waiting for inspiration to strike.

“They won’t want to come,” Castiel said emphatically, scowling.

“Your mother was happy enough when you called her about the engagement?” Dean pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean they will fly out here.”

“Cas. I love you. You know that. But you are being stubborn. You got an in with them in Seattle. Your mom is kind of a hardass. I bet she could drag your dad into line.”

“My mother?” Castiel arched his brows.

“You got it from somewhere.”

“Send the damn invite, if you must.” Castiel scowled.

Dean picked up his empty mug and skirted the table. He dropped a kiss on Castiel’s head. “You want more coffee?”

“Yes. Because more caffeine will make me easier to get on with.” Castiel scribbled his parent’s names on his list. He chewed on his lower lip. “Should I include Jimmy?”

Dean paused while pouring the coffee. “Do you want him here?”

“He is my brother.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Damn it, Dean. Can’t you just tell me ‘no, I don’t want that jerk here!’?”

“Sorry, babe. I have mellowed in my old age. You gotta make that decision on your own. I’m saying no to my cousin’s kids though. Total little shits.”

“Whatever you say, old man. You want them to stay off your lawn too?”

“Watch it.” Dean set Castiel’s coffee in front of him. “You are older than me.”

“I will just settle for saying things like ‘Back in my day…”

Dean just chuckled.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at his uncooperative tie. He just didn’t have the knack for the damn things. The silvery-gray silk kept twisting sideways, making him look dishevelled. He glanced up at the knock on the door.

Dean strolled in, perfectly attired, his hair neatly barbered, freshly shaved chin. Castiel’s hands stilled. “Be still my heart.”

“I know, right?” Dean strutted a little as he approached, doing a little ‘blue steel’ to make Castiel laugh. Castiel obliged, a grin warming his slightly pale features. “Doing alright?” Dean tugged on the ends of his tie, and started to wind it into the intricate windsor knot to match his own. “Nervous? You look like you are going to throw up.”

“No I’m not going to throw up, assbutt.” Castiel scowled in mock annoyance, before his expression smoothed, and the smile returned. “I can’t believe it’s today. It’s here.”

Dean settled the knot neatly at Castiel’s throat, curved his hands over his face and leaned forward into a gentle kiss. “It’s here. Now I have a surprise for you. Come on.” He took Castiel by the hand and tugged him toward the door.

“Today is not the day to spring surprises, Dean,” Castiel protested.

“I think you will like this one.” Dean pushed open the door to the upstairs lounge.

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Mom? Dad?”

Helena rose from the couch, her impeccable mother-of-the-groom suit sleek and freshly ironed. Her smile was brilliant. “How handsome you look!” She held out both hands to Castiel, and glanced past him to Dean. “Both of you.”

“I didn’t...think you would come.” Castiel stepped up to take her hands in his.

“Well, _I_ wasn’t going to miss it.”

He didn’t miss the sharp glance sent his father. He turned to Aleksandr, studying his father’s stony expression and internally sighed. Well, he was here. He might not agree or like it, but he was here.

“Thank you both for coming.”

Aleksandr cleared his throat. “Good luck today, Castiel.” He studied Dean. “Both of you.”

Castiel nodded mutely.

“Jimmy couldn’t come, I’m sorry. But he is doing well. He has been clean for five months.”

"I'm very glad to hear that," Castiel said earnestly.

Dean’s voice was solemn. “We need to head down. The rest of the guests are arriving.”

Helena Novak leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her son’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” She squeezed his hands once and let go.

Castiel felt his throat grow tight. “Thanks. Thanks, Mom.”

The ceremony was short and sweet. The two men stood before their celebrant out on the freshly mown pasture just beyond the house, with only the mountains and sky for walls and a roof. Gabe steadied Castiel's nerves with little jokes and sardonic asides, while Sam muttered little comments to Dean until he got a sharp elbow to the ribs to shut him up. Their vows were simple, heartfelt. The celebrant spoke of  love and finding a partner to endure tribulations, of trust and hope for the future. Dean declared Castiel the love of his life. Castiel said Dean was his touchstone, the man who taught him how to live. The whoops and hollers as they were declared married rang loud across the Circle W. Louder still was the music that echoed when the real party got started.

One of the barns had been cleared out, lights strung through the rafters, groaning tables piled with food, music, dancing and free flowing alcohol. Charlie had arranged the cake, declaring it was a surprise. When it was wheeled out, everyone laughed. The three tiered monstrosity was decorated half and half with cowboy gear side by side with bowls, whisks, spoons and a floppy chefs hat. The toppers were two custom decorated Pop Vinyls - an appropriately decorated cowboy and chef. They cut through the rich dark chocolate mud cake interior, and shared a fierce kiss after feeding each other the customary bite.

Much later that evening, Castiel escaped outside to catch a breath of cool air. He stood, hands in his pockets, staring up at the stars. His suit jacket and tie had been discarded long ago.

“Castiel.”

Cas jumped at the sound of his father’s voice, the coil of uncertainty flaring in his gut. “Father.”

Aleksandr joined him, in unconscious echo of his son’s posture, tucking his hands into his pockets. “This is a good day.”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“I like Dean. He seems like a good man.”

“He is, Dad.” Castiel turned to study his father, watching his face in the wash of moonlight.

“I have not always understood who you are, Castiel-” Alexandr shifted uneasily.

“Dad-” Castiel interjected, concerned by the look of uneasiness on his father’s normally austere face.

“Let me finish, Castiel.” Alexandr interrupted. “I have not understood who you are. I know you didn’t choose to be gay. I thought it was something I had done, that you had rebelled against your upbringing. I’m a little more informed now.” He ran his hand through his neat hair, rumpling it up. “But you forged your own path. You took what you loved doing and made a career from it. You cared for your brother far beyond the sacrifices any sibling should make. And in the past months, I have been forced to face my own prejudices - that who you are as a man is someone I am very proud of to have as my son.”

Castiel swallowed, for the tenth time today he felt his eyes sting with tears.  He launched at his father and wrapped his arms around him. After a brief hesitation, Alexandr returned the gesture, fiercely gripping his son to him.

“That means … everything, Dad. Thank you.”

Alexandr slowly released him, keeping his hands on his son’s shoulders. “I have many years of being an asshole to make up for, and I won't be able to do it tonight. Go be with...your husband.” He kissed his son first on one cheek, then on the other, a gesture he hadn’t done since Castiel was a lad of fifteen, then strode into the barn, probably to find Helena.

Castiel had to compose himself before he could return. When he felt Dean’s arm wrap warmly around him and pulled him back against the strength of his chest, Castiel let a few tears fall.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dean murmured against Castiel’s temple. “Your father didn’t say anything, did he?”

“Yes. I mean, no, not what you are thinking. I think he was asking me to forgive him.”

“So, good tears?”

“Good tears.”

Dean linked his fingers with Castiel and rose the knuckles to his lips. He pressed a kiss there. “Good.”

“We should go back in,” Castiel sighed, though he didn’t move.

“Not yet. I feel like I barely had you to myself today.”

“Don’t you remember what Charlie said when you complained about how big it was all getting?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled good naturedly, before mimicking Charlie. “The wedding isn’t about the two of you. You could get married down at the courthouse. This is about telling your family and friends that you love them and want them here. So suck it up, Winchester.”

“You really nailed her lecturing tone.” Castiel grinned, and swiped the last of his tears from his face. “So shall we go then, husband?”

“We shall, husband.” Dean grinned suddenly. “I really like the sound of that.”

“Me too.”

Keeping their hands linked, they headed back to their reception.

 


End file.
